The John and Monica Lyrics Chronicles
by Smackalicious
Summary: Drabble Fic 23: Are you asking me out on a date, Agent Doggett? [Witty banter FTW. Also, hot sex. Kiddies, stay away.] Updated September 1st!
1. A New Day

**_Author's Note: These are all separate fics based off a prompt of different song lyrics. Each fic uses only one prompt. I'll make notes about the prompt, rating, POV, format, and any spoilers, if necessary._**

**_Prompt: "you set fire to me that night, you lit and left me burning; out of my mind, but in my sights, I saw the tables turning." - from "Fatally Yours" by Alkaline Trio. Rated PG-13 to R. _**

**__**Monica sighed and closed her eyes as she approached the basement office she shared with John. Today promised to be interesting, after last night's close call.

It started out like any other night after work. They hit up McGinty's for a few beers, a few laughs, and maybe a game of pool or darts, then they parted merrily and headed home. At least that was their usual routine. Last night ended up a bit differently...

..._"Ah, I think I hear the 5 o'clock whistle blowin'," John said, standing from his desk and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair._

_Monica looked up and smirked. "You're sure in a hurry to get out of here."_

"_After the day I've had, you betcha."_

_Monica's expression sombered. John's ex-wife, Barbara, had called him as soon as he arrived at work to let him know she was getting married again. It hit John hard, Monica could sense it. She knew a part of him still loved Barb, even after everything they'd been through – especially after what they'd gone through._

"_You up for a few brews, Mon? I could really use a friend right now," John asked, and though his words were innocent enough, his eyes were pleading with her to say yes._

_Monica's heart broke at his expression. "Of course, John. You know I can't leave someone who's in need." She smiled brightly, but an undertone of seriousness still permeated her words._

"_Thanks," John said softly. He started to reach out for her, then caught himself and drew his hand back, clenching it into a fist. "McGinty's?"_

_Monica nodded, not daring to speak for fear that her words would betray her exterior._

"_Great. Meet ya there." John was out of the office before Monica could even say a word..._

_...John slid into his truck, mentally berating himself for running out like that. He hit the steering wheel with his open palm, mad at himself and upset over Barb._

_Monica held her head high as she walked through the parking garage to her car, willing herself to not let his behavior get to her. She knew he wasn't an open person, and she knew not to expect him to just let her in, but after all she'd seen him through, to see him hold back broke her heart. She was afraid he'd never let her in, and the thought depressed her, because she knew she would love him forever, regardless of the status of their relationship._

"_No. Don't think like that, Monica," she said to herself. "This is just John being John. That's what made you fall in love with him in the first place. Just go to the bar, make sure he doesn't get TOO trashed, and let him get it out tonight." She sighed and turned the key..._

_...Monica pulled up to McGinty's and parked next to John's truck, then headed into the dimly lit bar, where she saw John at the bar, nursing what appeared to be scotch._

"_Had to resort to a scotch? Must really be bad," Monica joked, swinging herself on to the stool next to him._

"_Not much of a scotch man. It's whiskey," he said, strangely devoid of emotion._

"_You sure that's a good idea?"_

"Look, it's my life, and I'll drink whatever the hell I want," John said sternly, and just a little above normal speaking range.

_Monica didn't flinch. He'd done this before. After Luke. She was expecting him to behave this way, and she knew the only way she'd get him to confront his demons would be to dish it right back at him._

"_Well, guess what, John. I'm not going to be responsible for you getting yourself into a world of hurt." She grabbed the glass from his hand and forced it to the bar, liquor sloshing over the edge._

_John looked up at her, anger flashing in his eyes, and stood up. When he came at her, she didn't move. She knew what was coming._

_He descended on her and gave her the biggest hug she'd ever been given. He held on for a long time, then finally brushed her cheek with his lips as he whispered, "Thank you."_

_She smiled against his rough cheek, then brought herself to say what she had been contemplating: "Should we just forget the bar?"_

_He pulled himself away from her and looked her in the eye. The intensity of his gaze made Monica warm all over, and she knew the answer..._

_...Monica slipped her key into her apartment door, fully aware of what could happen once they stepped inside and closed the door._

_Once inside, she turned to face John. He was looking around anxiously, as if he'd never been in her apartment before._

"_John?"_

_He faced her. He knew what she expected, but he didn't know if he could go through with it. He'd at least try._

_He found himself moving closer to her, and before long, his lips pressed against hers, and they shared a kiss that was meant to be simple, but continued to grow. The whiskey, what little of it he'd had, along with the torrent of emotions the day had brought on, took its effect on John, and he was soon pushing Monica to her bedroom._

_Monica, as much as she wanted this, was supposed to be the voice of reason. "John...John," she said, trying to get his attention._

_He continued to assault her with kisses, taking out his energy through lovemaking, and ignored her call of his name. _

"_John," Monica repeated, more urgently this time. She knew if they went through with this and had sex tonight, they'd both regret it in the morning. "Stop!"_

_That word was enough to pull John out of the moment. "Mon?"_

_She shook her head, looking at her now crumpled bedsheets. "I...I just don't want either one of us to regret this. I don't want to put a strain on our relationship." _

_John turned from her. "I should go."_

"_Yeah." Monica spoke quietly, but he heard her. "Do you need a ride?"_

"_I'm fine, Mon. I'll see you tomorrow." He left her bedroom in a hurry, slamming the door on his way out. He hopped in his truck and squealed the tires in his rush to get the hell out of there._

_Monica sighed to herself and flopped onto her bed. He'd get over it. This was for the best..._

...Monica finally worked up the guts to push open the office door, then opened her eyes. The office was empty. She let out the breath she'd been holding and moved to her desk, where she noticed a piece of paper addressed to her in John's chicken scratch. She unfolded the note and read it to herself.

_Mon,_

_I ran to the coffeeshop for some joe. Don't worry – I'll get some kind of vanilla de-caf mocha soy thingamabob for you. Sorry about last night. I guess I pushed things kinda far, huh? I'll make it up to you._

_Love,_

_John_

Monica smiled to herself. Even if he'd never been able to say it out loud, she knew. And in the long run, that was all that really mattered.


	2. He'll Come Around

**_Author's Note: Spoilers for the scene with Luke (if you know the show, you know the scene). Rated PG-13. Angst. Doggett/Reyes friendship. Reyes POV.  
_**

**_Prompt: "it's a cold day in a cruel world, I really wished I could have saved you; then who would save me from myself?" - from "Ballad For Dead Friends" by Dashboard Prophets. (Boy, this challenge sure has a lot of emo music.)_**

The next breath I am about to take catches in my throat. It's him. Luke Doggett. John Doggett's son. Lying facedown in this field. This green field whose color seems all too alive given the circumstances.

I can't do it. I have to let John know, but I can't do it. I've done it before, told people about their children, but this is different. This is John. I've felt something with him since I was assigned to this case. It's like fate brought me to him for a reason.

Finding Luke dead was NOT that reason.

I finally turn to face John. My eyes must be giving everything away, because his stony expression crumbles as he walks toward me with long strides, keeping his gaze fixed on mine until Luke's body comes into view.

He stoops to his son's lifeless body, wanting to touch him, but knowing he can't because of the possibly evidence that could still be on Luke.

The second I see a tear roll down John's cheek, I turn away. I can't do this. I have to get out of here before I start crying myself. It's one thing to cry when I'm alone, but crying in front of John would not be acceptable.

I have to let him know where I'll be, though. I gently touch his shoulder, and he looks up at me hopefully.

"I...I'm going back to the hotel," I say, voice cracking despite my insistence that it stay calm.

John nods soundlessly and turns to Luke again. I start walking away, then feel John's presence behind me and stop.

"Agent – Monica. I just wanted to say..."

"No. Please don't say it," I interrupt him. I turn to face him again. "I'll be at the hotel." On impulse, I lean in and brush a chaste kiss across his cheek. It's highly inappropriate, but it felt like the right thing to do.

I'm about to leave again, then John's voice stops me. "I know you did what you could, Monica. I don't blame you."

"No. But you blame yourself. Which is worse, John?" I haven't faced him. "You still have a chance to save yourself." I don't move, because I know he has a response.

"I don't believe in all that crap, Monica," he says softly, so I know that even though his words say otherwise, he knows what I'm saying is true.

I assume he's done talking, so I start walking again when I feel a weight on my shoulder. I glance over and see John's hand, so I turn and face him yet again.

"What is it, John?" I ask after he says nothing.

He shakes his head. "I know where you'll be. Go. I need to talk to Barb."

I nod slowly. It seems like there's something else he wants to say, but I'm not going to push him. That's the last thing he needs right now. I put my hand on his for a moment, then finally walk away.

After I reach my car, I look back and see John standing in the middle of the field, motionless, looking as lost as Luke probably felt. He says he knows where I'll be, but I'm not expecting to see him. It's too soon. Right now, he's acting calm, rational, but tonight... I can already see it in his stance, the blank look in his eyes. He'll need saving, and I hope someone's there to catch him when he falls.


	3. Real World?

**_Author's Note: Spoiler for "4-D." Gives away entire episode. Reyes POV. Rated PG-13. Angst. _**

**_Prompt: "like violence you have me, forever, and after; like violence, you kill me, forever and after" - from "Violence" by Blink 182._**

**__**Sometimes I think back and wonder if any of that stuff with Lukesh ever happened. Of course I'll never mention that to John, because he'd just wave his finger under my nose and say something about how he was right, he's always right.

The whole situation seems so unreal when I look back on it. I mean, how is it possible that _I _was able to pass from one dimension to another? Lukesh could, but that doesn't explain how I could be with John in my apartment eating polish sausage one minute and then getting a phone call from Skinner about John being shot the next.

And the thing that John would never understand is that I'm still scared. I'm absolutely terrified that Lukesh will somehow be able to kill me in this dimension. God knows I'm already dead in his. John is dead in yet another. Somewhere, in some dimension, John held me while I bled, and in the dimension I visited, I pulled the plug on John.

I don't want that to happen in this dimension. The thought of living in this world without John's presence is completely incomprehensible to me, as dramatic as that sounds. The thing is, what if this world isn't the REAL world? What if the world where Lukesh killed me or where John died is the life we're supposed to be living, and somehow we got trapped in this world? I hate to think of it, but it's just a possibility, and I have to examine all possibilities.

I should just be happy that I'm in this dimension, where John and I are both alive and happy, but as long as Erwin Lukesh breathes the same air I do, I'll be in constant fear that I'll be taken to one of those other dimensions, away from my life here, to live or die completely alone.


	4. Phoenix

_**Author's Note: slight spoilers for John's history. Reyes POV. Doggett/Reyes relationship implied. Poem. **_

_** Prompt: "we are flying on wings in winter sky, with fire burning deep inside" - from "Heart of a Dragon" by Dragonforce.**_

_**  
**_Depite this tragedy you  
have seen, you will be  
always a phoenix,  
rising from the ash.

Fly away from here, from  
this life of suffering,  
my love. You, so full  
of loyalty, burned  
to the bone by the cruelty  
of existence. That chiseled,  
stolid profile, etched from pure  
dependability, with eyes, blue  
as the frozen tundra, piercing  
through my transparent motives.

(I just want to be with you,  
to love you, so you feel love.  
Is that so much to ask, dear?)

I see your wings spreading  
as you prepare to make  
the plunge. No matter what,  
you will rise above the fire.


	5. It's My Life

**_Author's Note: This is John's POV, has minor spoilers for "Audrey Pauley," "Existence," and John's history. Rated PG/PG-13. Prompt: "and most of all, I don't need your opinion; 'cause you don't know what it's like to be like me." - "You Don't Know" by Reel Big Fish._**

**__**

**__**This whole thing, this whole "love thing," what I don't understand is everyone's obsessiveness over other people being in love. Like Monica. Well, not that she's obsessed with it, but rather people seem to be fawning over the idea of us being together. I don't understand why it's at the forefront of everyone's mind. Of course I care about her, and I know how she feels about me. She's made it pretty clear. But that doesn't mean I'm in love with her or want to spend the rest of my life with her.

But maybe I should consider it. No, I'm not talking about showing up at her apartment and proposing or anything like that, but maybe I should start thinking about Monica as dating material. God knows it wouldn't hurt me any to get out at night. And as far as women go, you can't get much better than Mon. Sure, she has some batshit crazy ideas, but she's loyal and pretty trustworthy. She's probably a dog person, too.

Heh. Mon. Sometimes I don't know what to do with her. I'm sure she's gotten into her share of trouble for not following rules, but then again, I've been known to break a few myself. Like when I assigned Monica to the x-files. Kersh wasn't too happy about that one.

I think I could be happy with Monica. She already knows more about me than just about anyone else in my life. I dunno, she just has somethin' about her that makes you wanna tell her what's wrong. I didn't always WANT to tell her about myself, but she'd just stare at me, like she was tryin' to read my mind or somethin'. Drove me crazy. So I'd just spit it out, whatever was buggin' me. Usually nothin' big, but she got me a few times.

There was one time shortly after Luke where I just about couldn't stand to even be around her, and she just up and confronted me about it, wouldn't back down 'til I answered her. Her eyes were borin' frickin' holes in my skull, and I couldn't stand it anymore, so I just blurted it out. I can't look at you because I always see the look on your face from that moment. I see what I couldn't do for Luke. I see me lettin' him down.

I look back and can't help but feel bad. None of that was Monica's fault. If it wasn't for her, I don't think I coulda made it. I've never told her, but maybe I should. And maybe that's what everyone's been seein', that she was some kinda safety net, and I know she'd do just about anything for me, short of killing me, though I'm sure that's crossed her mind a few times. I know I'm stubborn as hell.

That's why it's taken me so long to admit that I do love her. I told myself after Barb that I wouldn't do it, because I didn't need it, the pain I'd feel after I pushed her away one too many times and she left for good. But I know Monica won't leave. That's why I'm gonna tell her how I feel. I'm sure she already knows – she "senses" things, after all.

Geez, a phone has never looked so intimidating before. I dunno what the hell I'm so afraid of. I know she's be happy – no, ecstatic – to hear what I have to say. Only one way to find out for sure.

She picks up after the second ring. "Reyes."

It's now or never. "Hey, Mon. I was just wondering, are you busy?"


	6. Under My Skin

**_Author's Note: Reyes POV. DRR. Rated R. Contains strong language. The subject may be slightly difficult to read, though nothing serious happens. You'll understand when you start reading.  
_**

**_Prompt: "I never thought that this day would ever come; when your words and your touch just struck me numb." - from "The Hardest Walk" by Jesus & The Mary Chain._**

**__**I had never felt fear around John Doggett, not even after he'd lost his memory in Mexico. That is, until now.

I don't know what came over him. All that happened was a silly comment, one of the guys from behavioral... And John was off his stool, sending it shaking to the floor. I knew he had been drinking a little, but I never thought he'd get mad enough to pick a fight.

It was a normal night after work. A bunch of agents, John and myself included, and mostly men, at that, would go to the local bar and enjoy a few beers during happy hour, then head home. Usually everything went off without a hitch, but for some reason, John was riled up today, and that comment got to him.

Like I said, the comment was stupid, and really, if anyone should've gotten mad, it should've been me. Jackson had always been trying to get into my pants, and when I turned him down yet again, he got pissy and turned into a child about it. His accusation? "Oh, I get it. You're too busy fucking your partner to give anyone else a good time."

I had never seen John look so angry before. His eyes set fire, rage burning crisp flames into Jackson's unwavering stare.

"What did you just say?" John said, and the timbre of his voice surprised me. He was genuinely pissed off.

"John, it's nothing," I said, touching his arm lightly. He turned to look at me, and that's when I really got scared.

"I'm not going to let that fucker say shit like that about us," he said, and he still had this snarl on his face that no doubt was directed at Jackson, but at that moment, I couldn't help but feel a stab of fear in my stomach that something very bad was going to happen to me.

He slowly swiveled to face Jackson after I remained silent. "You wanna fight, buddy? I'll show you a fight." Jackson stood up and that's when John's stool went flying.

Now I'm sitting here, struck numb by what's happening. It's too late to talk him out of it. I can only hope that my gut is wrong about this. I should feel flattered that John's willing to get into a fight over me, but I'm a trained federal agent. I can take care of myself.

John's staring him down, in a stance that says he's ready for anything Jackson will throw his way. "Come on, fucker, let's see what you're made of."

Jackson chuckles. God, this is going to play like one of those horrible fights in some cheesy movie. I gotta put a stop to this right now.

"Boys, come on, break it up," I find myself saying, and stand to separate the men, and John spins to face me, causing me to reel back in surprise.

"Mon, ya gotta let me do this," he says, and I can still feel the flames of anger burning in his eyes.

"You gonna let your girlfriend tell you what to do?" Jackson asks smugly.

John flips his gaze back to Jackson. "We're partners. Nothing more. So back the hell off."

"John, come on. Let's get out of here," I say, touching his arm as a prompt.

"Get outta here, Monica. I'll handle this," he says, not even turning to acknowledge me.

"Fine." I've decided it's better to cede now, rather than having him do something to me he'd regret later. I leave the bar slowly and decide I better go home, because if John comes out and sees me out here...

God, I hate thinking this way! The idea of John intentionally hurting me is normally something I'd be furious over the insinuation of, but I'd never seen John so mad before, and he HAD been drinking...

No! I will not say that. I refuse to believe he'd ever hurt me. He'd never touch a woman in any way that's harmful. That's just who he is. He's an old-fashioned gentleman. And once he sobers up, he'll realize what he's done and kick himself for being such an ass.

And that's why I've come here, to his house. Yeah, he'll be pissed when he shows up and sees me sitting on his front steps, but it's for the best. Now all I have to do is sit and wait for him to get home.

I guess I have time to think about what happened tonight. It's not the first time someone's made comments like that about John and me. I don't know what it was that set him off tonight. I mean, yeah, Jackson's comment was pretty harsh, but he was always that way, so there had to be something else bothering John.

Jackson DID say I was too busy "fucking my partner" to get anything else done, though, and I can understand why John got so pissed about that. It's just not like him to pick a fight. Usually when someone makes a comment like that, he tells the guy to lay off, and that's that. There seemed to be something else eating at him when he went for Jackson's jugular, and I'm going to find out what it was, no matter how long it takes.

And here he is, not quite an hour later. At least he can still walk.

He walks around his truck, pressing the lock button on his keychain, then finally sees me sitting on the steps. "Aw, geez. What are you doin' here, Monica?"

"I'm making sure you're okay. Making sure WE'RE okay, John."

He really looks annoyed now. "...the hell, Mon? Don't get into this relationship bull with me right now, 'kay? You know how I feel about that stuff. 'Course we're okay. I wasn't upset with you."

"I realize that, John. I just thought..." Damn, how am I going to bring this up? I can't just drop it now. We need to talk.

"What? You just thought what, Monica?"

"I just thought maybe there was something going on that made you act that way tonight."

John rolls his eyes, pretty much what I expected him to do. "There's nothin' goin' on."

I give him a look that asks, you sure? and he sighs. I got him.

"Now, I don't want you to go getting any ideas, but I think whatever kind of relationship we have now is changing."

Now it's my turn to be confused. "What do you mean, John?"

He blows out a long breath, like he's about to tell me he's actually a woman. "I know I haven't always been forthcoming with my feelings, but I think I'm startin' to feel somethin' with you, and I dunno if I'm totally alone in that feelin' or what, but I know I gotta do something about it, otherwise it's gonna affect how we work, and then the rumors will really start to fly."

"So what are you proposing?" I manage to ask, even though it feels like I just swallowed my tongue.

He looks up from his hands and into my eyes. "That all depends on how you feel."

Oh, shit. Did he just say that? Shit. He can't leave this up to me. "I...you know how I feel, John."

"Yeah. That's what I figured. So, how we gonna break it to Kersh?"

Wait a minute. Did John just basically admit that he'd rather be in a relationship with me than keep his job on the x-files? "So you're saying..."

"Come on, Monica, you know I was never cut out for all this shit with aliens. I'm just a regular ol' cop. This is _your _dream job, Monica. Not mine. If I have to find another job in the FBI to explore whatever it is I'm feeling, I'm willin' to do that. I've lost too much already not to take this risk."

Ya know, despite the seriousness of this conversation, the thought of John "exploring his feelings" is just too funny.

"What?" John asks, smirking.

"I was just thinking how that sounds like something I'd say, and something you'd probably roll your eyes at." The irony of this is too funny.

John continues smirking, then says, "I guess you got under my skin, Monica. Not that I'm complaining."

God, this man surprises me more every day. "You really want this, don't you?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "Don't you?"

"Of course I do." Shit, how do I always end up saying something like that? "I guess I always thought I'd be the one to bring it up, that's all."

"Look, Mon, I know I'm not exactly Mr. Emotions, but that doesn't mean I can't, you know, fall in love."

Did he admit he's in love with me? This is just too much for one night. But too much of a good thing is a good thing, right? "John, are you saying...?"

He gives me one of those lopsided grins that just make me melt. "I think I might love you, Monica."

Okay, Monica, you can do this. Come up with some witty comment. "You just 'think' you love me? I don't know how convincing an argument that is, John."

He's still grinning, so I know he's having fun, too. "I gotta make sure before I commit, Monica." He draws out my name, enunciating each syllable.

"How do you plan on doing that, Mr. Doggett?" I do the same thing with his last name. Two can play at that game.

"Like this." Before I can say anything, he's kissing me. And for the times I've thought about this moment, it certainly isn't disappointing in the least.

As we break apart and the color comes back to my cheeks, I can't help but ask my smart-ass question: "Have you come to a conclusion yet?"

He smiles almost dreamily and says, "Yeah. I have."

Even though I know the answer, I have to ask: "What have you decided?"

He stands up and offers me his hand. "Wanna come inside?"

I can't help but smile. Things are finally looking up.


	7. Time for Change

**_Author's Note: John POV. DRR implied. Angst. Strong language. Rated R. _**

**_Prompt: "can't say I was never wrong, but some blame rests on you" - from "Work" by Jimmy Eats World_**

**__**I don't know how the hell she does it. She just gets under my skin and it's like she's trying to piss me off by telling me this guy is killing by number or she was some sorta miner or somethin' in a past life. And then there's all that shit with feeling evil presences...

And what pisses me off the most is how she's always right.

Like I said, I dunno how she does it. I suppose I'm not really mad at her for it, just annoyed that I can't see the same things she does. But when she breaks the facts of the case to other agents, we always get the rough end, even when she's right. That really irks me.

I know how Agent Scully must've felt all these years. But she didn't let it get to her. 'Course that could've had somethin' to do with her feelings for Mulder. And I really know how that feels.

I try not to let my feelings for Monica get in the way of our work, but when something like her accident happens, I remember how short life is and how much I want to say fuck the FBI's rules and just tell Monica how much I love her and want to be with her. I can't do that, though, because I'm way too invested in the x-files to lose my job there.

Fuck. It's a tough decision, I can tell you that. I guess if I want to look on the bright side, most everyone assumes we're involved already. I think a lot of that comes from Mulder and Scully and the nature of their relationship. I also basically assigned Monica to be my partner, so I'm sure a few eyebrows rose over that.

Really, though, as much as I can't stand her crazy theories, Monica and I work well together. She can talk to people and relate to them, but at the same time, be tough. And when she gets caught up in her ideas, I can keep her grounded. We balance each other out. That's part of what makes me want this relationship – the way we complement each other, how we seem to be two halves of a whole.

Geez, there I go again, sounding like Monica. There's really nothing wrong with thinkin' like that, except the fact that it's a little too romantic for my tastes. Plus I'd get my ass kicked if any of my old buddies from New York heard me say that. Oh, well. They already think I've lost my mind for taking this job.

The x-files and seeing Monica again after all these years and finding out who was responsible for Luke, all that changed me. I don't think I've lost who I was before I came to D.C., but I think I'm definitely a different person than I was when I was married to Barb. I realized I could live and love again after everything that happened, and now I'm more motivated than ever before to tell Monica how I feel. Life is short, and living without taking risks and making choices isn't my idea of living.

I'm going to take a risk, make a choice, and really live.

The keys are cool in my hand as I make my way to my truck. Where I'm going is going to change my life as it is, and I know I'll be happier once I do this. Monica's apartment building comes into view, and I've never been so excited to see it, or her, before.

If I do nothing else in my life, I'll at least know I've told the one woman I'd do anything for how much she means to me. And that means more to me than any job I could ever have.


	8. Channeling You

**_Author's Note: DRR. Minor spoiler for "Release." General spoilers for Doggett's history. Rated PG-13._**

**_ Prompt: "you knocked me out, I can never be the same; I pushed you over, but here we still remain" - from "Knock Me Out" by Linda Perry_**

**_  
_**She was the one who turned him on to the idea. He could channel Luke by focusing his energies on one memory. The problem was, he could only think of one memory, as much as he tried not to think of that moment.

"Mon, this isn't working," he said, a hint of frustration and impatience in his words.

"You have to give it time," Monica said, reaching for his hands.

"No!" John threw her hands from his and stood up. "You told me I need a memory, and all I can think about is Luke laying in that field." He quickly turned from her and paced to the other side of the living room.

Monica felt like she had been punched in the face. The last thing she expected was John to blow up like that. Especially at her. She raised her eyes and glanced at John, who stood at the window, looking out at nothing in particular. She desperately wanted to comfort him, but sensed he'd push her away as soon as she touched him, so she hung back. He'd come around.

Convinced he wasn't going anywhere, she rose from the couch, her intent to go to the kitchen. John heard her rise and turned so the window and Monica split his view.

"I'm just...I'm having a hard time with all this." He finished the turn and faced Monica. "I don't know if I'm up for this."

Monica nodded slightly. She expected him to say something like that. That didn't mean she wasn't disappointed, but she didn't want to push him into something he didn't want to do. Besides, maybe if she backed off a little, he'd be more likely to come back to the idea later.

John must have noticed the hint of disappointment reflected in Monica's eyes, because he walked over to her and took her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted me to do this. I just don't know if I can, and I hate disappointing you..."

Monica cut him off. "No, John, you don't get it. I don't want you to do this for me. I want you to do this for yourself." She paused, looking down at their intertwined hands. "For Luke."

She raised her eyes to his and saw the same look on his face from that day he and Barb let Luke go. A stray tear escaped and slid down her face. John saw her crying and put a thumb to her face to wipe the tears away. "Don't cry, Mon. You'll make me look like the bad guy."

Monica laughed at his silliness, wiping away the rest of the tears. John pulled her into a hug, and she snuggled into his embrace. "God, this feels good," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

She felt him smile against her head. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

Monica pulled away from John just enough so she could look him in the eye. "We should do this more often," she said.

A smirk crawled across John's face. "I see what you're gettin' at, Mon."

She gaped openly at him. "What? You think I just want to get into your pants? You're incredible, John." She punched him in the shoulder and returned his grin, showing that she wasn't insulted by the comment.

In fact, she was glad he felt comfortable enough with her to even joke about something sexual. She hoped that meant he was suggesting something sexual. Her face burned at the thought. How had her thoughts turned from connecting to John's dead son to this? She shook the thought from her mind and faced John again.

He had sat down on her couch and threw his legs on the coffee table. Monica smiled at how at home he looked sitting there, hoping it would be a reality someday soon for him to actually be at home with her.

She plopped down next to him and let out a heavy breath. "I honestly don't want you to do this if you're uncomfortable," she said, closing her eyes against the words.

When she opened them again, John was giving her a quizzical look. "What are you referring to, Monica?"

She sighed. She was hoping he'd pick up on the hidden message in her statement, but wasn't exactly prepared for what to say in response. "I...you know what I'm referring to."

John leaned back into the couch, blowing out a breath of his own. "I was wonderin' when we were gonna talk about this."

"So I'm not the only one feeling this?" Monica asked for clarification that he felt the same way she did.

John nodded slightly. "Yeah. You're far from alone. So, what are we going to do about it?"

Monica eyed him. "I don't know, John. Things are complicated. If we did get involved, and someone found out, one or both of us could be transferred, and that would be just the ammo Kersh needs to get rid of the x-files permanently. Do you really want to risk doing that to Mulder and Scully?"

"Yeah, I know. But how are we ever supposed to be together and keep the x-files at the same time?" He paused and shifted to face Monica. "I don't want to go through my life without havin' someone to share it with, and I don't wanna share it with anyone but you, Mon."

Monica saw the desperation in his eyes, his desperation not to spend the rest of his live living without love, without HER love. Her breath hitched the way it did when she rode a rollercoaster and the car hit the top of a rise. John didn't act like this. Ever. This had to be serious for him to admit something so personal.

She reached a hand out and touched John's leg, raising her eyes to meet his again. "We'll have to find a way around Kersh."

John smirked. "We're trained agents, Monica. I'm sure we can think of something." He grabbed her hand from his lap and squeezed it, and both "trained agents" shared a goofy smile, looking like 16-year-olds on a first date.

They simply sat and grinned at each other for a few minutes before Monica broke the silence. "Now the question is, how do we go from where we are now to where we want to be?"

John tilted his head to look at her. "Well, I dunno 'bout you, but I can think of a real easy way."

"Oh, yeah?" Monica asked, inching slightly closer to him on the couch. "What's that?"

"This." John cupped Monica's face tenderly and brought his lips to meet hers, placing a series of gentle pecks on her mouth before she braced his head and deepened the kiss. When the kiss broke, Monica leaned into John, satisfied with their choice. Their choice to stop living in the past, to move into the future together, because regardless of what happened professionally to them, they would always be happy as long as they had each other to come home to at night.


	9. Believe

**_Author's Note: Monica character study. Angst. Mentions of MSR. Rated PG-13.  
_**

**_ Prompt: "where can I run to, where can I hide; who will I turn to now I'm in a virgin state of mind" - from "Virgin State of Mind" by K's Choice_**

**_  
_**She knows she comes off as a kook, what with her background in ritualistic crimes being Doggett's reason for bringing her into the world of the x-files. It's not like she never noticed the rolled eyes and quiet snickers behind her back. She just ignores them. Her beliefs are just that – HERS – and a few close-minded people won't change how she lives her life.

It's not that she believes without question – she's not that naive. She knows when something is a little hinky, when not to believe what she's being told. She feels when things aren't right, and it's the hardest to accept when it isn't situations that feel wrong, but people.

When she first met John, he was with Barbara, and she sensed a disconnect between them, like they were already having problems, and at a time when they needed to be working together... The lack of emotional support John had at that time was probably the reason he was so reluctant to open up to her now. He was most likely scared that she wouldn't be there when he had a major setback. His fear was completely unfounded, because she had always been a very open person herself, and the devotion she still has for him to this day is deep and unwavering.

He called her back all these years later, to get her expert advice on a case, and hearing his voice again made just a little part of her flutter in excitement, or anticipation, she couldn't tell which. She arrived in D.C. fresh-faced and eager, then saw Scully, or more specifically, how John looked at Scully, and it all fell into place.

He needed her there to solve this case and nothing else. He had fallen for Dana. She understood why – Dana is rational, scientific, doesn't believe in aliens and ghosts or reincarnation and chakras. In short, Dana's exactly like him and nothing like her.

But she could feel a strange sort of tension between John and Scully – the kind of tension that says "uncomfortable" and not the kind that screams "soul mate." She knew there had to be another factor to why their balance seemed off. She discovered that factor when she saw Mulder and Scully together.

Their connection popped. Love, devotion, and everything else she wished she had with John. She knows it will take John time to open up to her, but she feels that same connection with him that she sensed between Mulder and Scully, just not as strong just yet. Trust takes a long time to build, this she knows, and once he does trust her enough, she knows they can have something great, something...eternal, and it is with that thought that she says aloud,

"I believe."


	10. In Plain English

**Wouldn't it just be easier if I did this? **

**Title: In Plain English  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #10 - "hey, when we first met, I thought that time had come for me to die; but now I see, that you had come to bring in here new life" - from "Mono Prix" by Nina Hynes  
Word Count: 623  
Rating: R, for language  
Summary: "At this point, I'd do anything an' everything for that woman."  
Author's Notes: DRR implied. Doggett POV. Spoilers for Doggett's past, as usual. Angst?**

** Yeah. Thought so._  
_**

Truth be told, I was pissed when Monica explained her background and how she was planning on going about this case, my SON, for Chrissake. Feelin' evil spirits. Shit. I'd give 'er an evil spirit...

What the fuck were they thinkin', assignin' her to Luke's case? They shoulda known her behavior and her "expertise" was just gonna piss me off. I mean, shit, her background had nothin' to do with Luke, nothin' to do with a pervert takin' a little boy out ridin' his bike.

But I think about the whole thing now, and I can see why Monica was assigned to the case. She's pretty tough mosta the time, but when it comes to cases like this, she's a lot softer than some of the other agents, and that sure made dealin' with the whole situation easier. Granted, it was gonna be hard regardless of who was investigatin', but Monica... she's one helluva woman, I'll give her that. She actually cared about Luke, gave a damn about finding him and bringin' him back to me an' Barb. Now, I'm not sayin' the other cops didn't care, but at the end of the day, it was just another case to them.

It wasn't "just another case" to Monica. Never. She always treated Luke as if he was her own, and in some small way, I guess he belongs to her as much as he's mine and Barb's. Even if we hadn't talked much until I started on the x-files, I guess Monica was mine, too.

That sounds a little sentimental, I know, but I guess she does that to me. I never realized how much I missed her until I saw her again. She just has this way of lightin' up a room when she walks in. Prolly that stupid grin she's always got on her face, like she's the cat who ate the canary. She certainly makes this job a lot easier to deal with.

So, yeah, I feel bad for shuttin' her out and yellin' at her for things that weren't her fault, but I was angry. I know it's no excuse. I feel awful about how I've treated her, especially about her theories. Shit, they got the job done at the end of the day, and that's really the only thing that matters.

But I'll make it up to her. I can promise you that. At this point, I'd do anything an' everything for that woman. I know she'd do the same for me, and she's already given so much for me. She knows I love her, but I still need to tell her. She needs to understand what she's done for me, TO me. I mean, I'm the last person you'd expect to admit I'd give up everything for love, but Monica's the first person you'd expect, and that is precisely why I'm admitting to it. God, the things that woman does to me...

The thing is, she came into my life at a time where I was losing a part of myself. I felt like a part of me died that day we found Luke. But throughout the years after, I've come to realize that she revived parts of me I thought had died, and it's like she created entirely new parts to me, like she's some kind of crazy artist, a sculptor molding me to fit her ideal work of art.

No, that's not what I meant. It's more like Monica picked up the pieces, what was left of me, and put them back together in a completely different way...

Aw, hell, I'm no good with metaphors. I'm a better person because of her, because I _love_ her. And I don't need a metaphor to say that.


	11. After The Night Is Through

**Title: After The Night Is Through  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #30 - "there's a beast upon my shoulder and a fiend upon my back; feel his burning breath a heaving, smoke oozing from his stack" - from "Beastie" by Jethro Tull  
Word Count: 1,437  
Rating: R, for language and content  
Summary: "I'm in my car and driving. To where, I don't know. This is pure instinct right now."  
Author's Notes: DRR. Reyes POV. Includes rape/assault themes.**

He slams me against the wall. The brick is cool on my face, and the rough surface scratches my cheek, but that's really the last thing on my mind as his beer-battered breath travels across my shoulder.

"You're a dirty whore, aren't you?" His voice is eerily low, like he is, in fact, a demon risen straight from hell. I feel something push against my thigh. Not his penis. Not a gun. Fingers. Greasy, dirty, rough, mechanic fingers.

No. I will not let this happen. I'm a fucking FBI agent.

Suddenly, it's like I'm standing five feet away, watching my body spin and knee this bastard right in the crotch. Then I come back to my physical self, and I'm realizing that I have to get the fuck out of here. He'll kill me if I don't.

I'm in my car and driving. To where, I don't know. This is pure instinct right now. I gotta get somewhere, _anywhere,_ as long as _that _man isn't there. I should be okay for a few minutes, anyway.

Somehow, I've completely bypassed my apartment. My apartment, that would be safe and warm and a whole 5 minutes from that bar... I keep on driving, out of town, and I keep asking myself where exactly I'm going.

Monica, get a grip. You know _exactly _where you're going. You need to feel safe, and who is the one person you'd trust with your life?

I pull up and turn off the engine. What am I doing? It's 2:30 in the morning. I know he won't give a shit about the time when I tell him, though...

Once again, it's like I'm outside my body, this time watching myself knock on John's door. There's a thunderous slapping of feet on wooden steps inside, and the door is yanked open.

"Monica? What's wrong?" He doesn't sound sleepy at all. Maybe he wasn't sleeping.

"I...there was a man...I think I got away." Why am I babbling? I'm an FBI agent. It's not like I haven't been groped before. "He called me a dirty whore..."

"Oh, Monica. Oh, geez." He looks lost, sort of how I feel. "Did he...? I'll kill him, I swear to God. I'll rip his fuckin' balls off."

I can't help but smile at his protectivity. "No. I...kneed him in the crotch." I'm laughing now, _laughing_, for Chrissakes. This is crazy. I don't want to be in this situation. Not at all.

John's moved us to the couch, and when I reach up to my face, I realize I'm crying.

"Monica." I look at him when he says my name. I don't think I've ever really realized how much John _does _care about me. His hand moves to my cheek and rubs away the moistness left by my tears. I can't help it. I lean into his hand. And start crying harder.

"Mon," he whispers. "C'mere." I fall into his open arms and bury my face in his chest, wetting his shirt with my tears. "Just let it out, honey. You're safe now. No one's gonna hurt you. I'll make sure of that." I feel his lips brushing the top of my head, and I know he means every word of what he says.

Fuck. It's morning. And my head feels like it got hit with a 10-pound hammer. Shit. Where _am _I? The last thing I remember is being at the bar, and then...

"You're awake." John. It's coming back to me now. I came here after that man...

"John?" I cringe at the sound of my voice. I sound like a scared little girl.

He turns and observes me, holding a pair of faded blue jeans in his hands. I've just realized now that he's only wearing a very tight white t-shirt and an equally tight pair of briefs. Oh, boy. I should _not _be noticing how tight those briefs are.

"You okay, Mon?" He starts moving toward me, and I have to turn my head away so that I'm not blatantly gawking at his crotch.

"Can you...?" I can only hope that he interprets my hand motions as "put on your pants," because if I have to say it, I think my face will literally burst into flames.

"Sorry." He turns around and slips his jeans on, bending over as he does so, so I get yet another good look at his ass. And the thing is, normally, seeing him like this would be the biggest turn-on, but after last night...I think it's going to be awhile before I can look at _any _man that way.

"You wanna talk about it?" He looks so concerned. I have to assure him that I am okay, I will be okay, everything will be okay...if I have him around, that is.

"I guess I just had too much to drink, and hooked up with the wrong guy." The words are spilling from my lips before I get a chance to edit my thoughts, and John reacts the way I would had he said similar words.

His hands are firm on my upper arms, and his eyes pierce holes into mine. "No, Monica. This is not your fault. No woman asks for something like...Look, don't you go blamin' yourself for some guy being a perv and tryin' to take advantage of you. What do I have to do to convince you of that, Monica?"

It's when I look into his eyes that I see that, yes, he does love me, as much as he's afraid to tell me. His hands remain on my arms as I bring my hands to his rough cheeks.

"John, I know." I know I'm going to cry again if I think about last night again, but one thing I've learned in all my years doing this job is I have to face my demons as soon as possible, or else they'll eat away at me forever.

"You know," John's voice suddenly breaks the silence, "you know I'm here, if you need to talk about anything..."

I manage to nod. "Of course I know that, John. I wouldn't even think of talking to anyone else." He finally removes his hands from my biceps, and I suddenly feel naked without his touch. It's not for long, though, because he's pushing my hair out of my face, and before I can even think of what to say next, he's pressing his lips against mine, and any attempt at coherent thought flies out the window.

I close my eyes and try to enjoy this feeling – a man I love more than life itself physically showing me that he feels at least marginally the same way about me – but as I do so, suddenly I'm back in that alley, feeling those dirty fingers on my thigh, and then he says, "You're a dirty whore, aren't you?" and when I turn to look at him, it's John's face I see.

Oh, God. John's looking at me, confused and concerned. Why did that happen? I know he'd never...

"I'm sorry, Mon," he says. "I shouldn't have...That was inappropriate."

Dammit! He thinks he did something wrong, when all it was was me being paranoid.

"No, John." How the hell am I supposed to say this? I have to be honest with him, but I don't want him to think I'm scared of him or something. But he would know _that, _wouldn't he? "I just...when I closed my eyes just now..."

"You saw him." Shit, shit, shit. I do _not_ want to do this.

I shake my head. I can't even _say _ he's wrong. And now I'm crying. Hopefully he'll just figure it out so I don't have to say it.

"Me?" He's whispering now, which is what I expected him to do. "Monica, you know I'd never..."

I grab his hands and look him in the eye. "Of course I do. I don't know why...I just want this all to have been some horrible nightmare." I can barely see John through the film of tears that refuse to stop falling, but I know if I could see him, he'd have the same worried, loving look on his face.

He's taking me in his arms, providing comfort where needed, and I'm so grateful to have him.

I look up and into his eyes. I need to tell him what this means to me, what _he_ means to me. "John, I have to tell you something."

"Shh, I know." He places the tip of a finger on my lips. "I love you, too."

A content smile flits across my lips. Yeah, I'll be just fine.


	12. Secrets Can Kill

**Title: Secrets Can Kill  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #15 - "if you feel scared, a bit confused, I gotta say, this sounds a little beyond anything I'm used to" - "Scared" by The Tragically Hip  
Rating: PG-13 to R  
Summary: Monica calls John to get her out of some trouble...and ends up involving them in something more sinister than either could have imagined.  
Author's Notes: Only the slightest DRR through this. There is major character mutilation in this - not of John & Monica, but of other people. I'm sorry. And it gets really crappy at parts, so I apologize for that, too.  
**

"What's going on, Mon?" John asked in a hushed whisper. He'd never admit fear to her, but this situation made him question even that character trait. "Are you okay?"

Monica sobbed on the other end of the line. "I...I n-n-need...need you, John," she said between gulps.

"I'm on my way, Mon." He pulled a jacket out of his closet and headed to the door, cradling his cell phone between his shoulder and ear. "Where are you, Monica? I'm coming. Just tell me where you are."

"No!" Monica stopped crying long enough to say. "You can't...He'll kill us both."

John's eyes widened. "Who, Monica? What the hell is going on, Agent Reyes?"

Monica shivered and closed her eyes. "I shouldn't have called you." The sobbing started again. "Goodbye."

"What?" A click sounded over the line. "Monica? Monica!" He dropped the phone from his ear, frustrated and scared for Monica's life.

"I'm gonna find you, Monica. I'll find you and kill that son-of-a-bitch who's got you." He flung open the door and ran out, intent on tracking Monica down, one way or another.

At the same time, Monica struggled to keep her tears in check as her captor yanked open the door of the closet she hid inside.

"You on the phone?" he asked, a sneer flitting across his face.

Monica narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you doing this? You, of all people."

The captor slapped a hand over her mouth. "I'll ask the questions here."

Her eyebrows narrowed further. She made a forward movement with her head, then the man snatched his hand away. "You bit me!"

Monica tossed her hair out of her eyes. "You put your hand over my mouth."

"Listen, Agent, I just need answers from you. You don't do that, you and your partner are gonna be in a world of hurt."

She shook her head. "I just don't understand. Why are you threatening us? What do we have that you want? Is it the x-files? You know we won't give up that easily."

The captor rolled his eyes. "This isn't about the x-files. This is just about you. And your partner. I'm doing all this for your benefit, Agent Reyes. Nobody's going to do anything to you as long as you cooperate with me. You and Agent Doggett both. Do we have a deal?"

Monica eyed him, weighing the pros and cons of agreeing to this plan. After studying him for a few minutes, she gave a brusque nod. "Yeah. It's a deal...Skinner."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John swerved his truck into a dark alley and switched the ignition off. He needed to think! Where the hell could Monica be? He couldn't trace her cell phone. The only thing he could think to do was call her and ask.

"Yeah, right. Like she'd just tell me where she is when there's some guy there ready to blow us away. Aw, hell. I can hope that he's not around to hear the phone."

He drew his cell out of his coat pocket and pressed the "1" – speed dial for Monica. He tapped his foot as he waited for Monica to pick up. After two rings, she did, and sounded perfectly normal as she said, "Monica Reyes."

"Mon?" John asked, bewilderment shading his words. "You okay?"

"Yeah, of course," she said. "Why wouldn't I be?" She let out a small laugh, glancing at Skinner.

"What happened to this guy who was going to kill us? Kill you?"

"It's taken care of." Her gaze remained on Skinner.

"Well, can you at least tell me where you are? I want to see you for myself." If she declined this offer, he'd know that something was definitely wrong. Monica sounded terrified earlier – that wasn't something that happened often.

"I told you, I'm fine," she said, faking an unaffected voice. She even planted a concerned smile on her face, as if he could see her through the phone. "It's sweet of you to be worried, but you really don't have to be concerned." She turned her back to Skinner, as if the act itself would prevent him from hearing her. "I'm okay, John. If you really want to help, you can enjoy your weekend and stop worrying about me." She hung up on him before he could say anything else, closing her eyes to hold back the tears that wanted to come, and faced Skinner again.

Skinner rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. "I realize this is difficult for you, leaving Agent Doggett out of the loop like this, but if you want to protect yourselves, you'll keep this quiet."

Monica glared at him. "Why should I trust you, anyway? How do I know you're not just trying to separate me from John, get us apart so someone can swoop in and get rid of the x-files for good?" Her eyes burned with anger.

Skinner sighed, exasperated. "Agent Reyes, you know damn well I'm on your side." He paused, hands on his hips, and looked just above Monica's head as he spoke his next words. "This order came from another director in the Bureau."

When he looked back down, Monica was gaping at him. "Kersh?" she asked, and he shook his head. "Brad?" He tipped his head forward and looked at her over the top of his glasses, as if saying, "Do you even have to ask?"

Monica continued her gaping as she stumbled backward, searching for a place to sit. She thumped onto a metal box in the corner of the warehouse to which Skinner had taken her. "Why?"

Skinner blew out a breath and sat down across from Monica on another box. "Why not? You know he's not exactly fond of Doggett. Plus, by helping get rid of the x-files, he gains clout with those above us."

"This is bullshit," Monica said, shaking her head. "The x-files isn't his business, just like it isn't even John's or my business. The x-files always will be Mulder's, and Scully's. We'll do whatever it takes to make sure the x-files go on, though. We've seen too much not to."

Monica's phone suddenly rang, vibrating in her coat pocket. Monica looked at it, then Skinner, then reached for it, sighing.

"Monica Reyes."

"Agent Reyes, are you alright?"

"Dana?" Monica raised her eyes to meet Skinner's.

"Agent Doggett called me. He told me what happened earlier and how you insisted you were fine when something was obviously wrong. He thought maybe you'd be more comfortable talking to me."

Monica huffed over the line. Dammit! Why couldn't John just leave well enough alone?

Because he cared too much about her, that's why.

She stood and walked away from Skinner. "I really am okay. I'll be home soon, and if John's still convinced there's something wrong, he can come see me for himself."

Scully sighed on her end. "Alright. Alright, I'll tell Agent Doggett. And Monica?"

"Yeah?" Monica asked, nervous that Scully had somehow figured out what was really going on.

"Take care of yourself. John cares about you. He just wants what's best for you."

Monica held back tears for the second time that night and pressed the END button on her phone. She blew out a long breath and gathered herself before turning back to Skinner.

"I told Dana I'd be at my apartment," she said, motioning that she had to leave.

"Yeah, yeah. You'd better get home."

Monica started for the exit, then felt Skinner's hand on her arm and stopped.

"Not a word, Agent Reyes," Skinner said.

Monica nodded and slipped out the door, glad to be out of that situation. As she slid into her car, she saw Skinner exit, looking around for any suspicious activity, then jump into his own car and squeal away from the warehouse. Monica finally let her tears escape. She wasn't crying because of the situation with Skinner. No, she wasn't too worried about that, in all honestly. She's an FBI agent. This wasn't the hardest thing she'd had to deal with. But not being able to tell John, the one person she could keep nothing from...that was killing her.

"'Kay, Monica, you're just gonna go home, and when you see John, you'll act like nothing's wrong," she told herself. She turned the key in the ignition and sighed. "Yeah, right. That's easier said than done."

But she would have to keep quiet about Skinner, and Brad's plan to put an end to the x-files, his plan to plant evidence to incriminate John Doggett in the death of another man.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Monica pulled onto her street, she noticed a silver truck parked in front of her building. She sighed. John. She knew he'd come over here, if nothing else, to check on her, though she knew he wanted answers about what had happened earlier.

She parked her car and stepped out, the cold air hitting her hard. She could do this. She'd just assure him she was okay and make him go home.

"Monica." John stood from the front steps of her building, where he'd been sitting, waiting for her to get home. He sounded relieved to see her, which broke Monica's heart, because it made what she had to do even harder.

She gave him a small smirk. "See? Told you I was fine."

"What happened, Mon?" John took on his interrogator voice as Monica unlocked her door and ushered him inside.

"Nothing, I told you," she answered, not daring to look at him. "I just overreacted."

She felt his presence behind her, the soft breeze of his breath on her neck, silently asking her to turn and face him. When she didn't, he placed his hands on her upper arms and performed the act himself.

"You an' I both know that ain't true," John said, rubbing his thumbs along her biceps in an attempt to get her to tell him what was actually going on. It was cheap, using her feelings for him to get her to open up, but he wanted to know just what it was keeping her from telling him the truth. "Are you in some kind of trouble? 'Cause if you are, and there's somethin' I can do…"

"No!" Monica said, maybe a little too forcefully. "I can't tell you anything, John."

His eyes widened. "You are in trouble. Aw, shit. I shoulda known, I shoulda been there…"

Monica looked at him in disbelief. "What? You think I can't take care of myself? I did pretty good down in New Orleans. I've never needed a man to protect me before. Why would I need one now?" She spun away from him.

Her display of anger was masking the pain she was feeling about keeping something so important from John. Monica knew that, and she hoped he would just see the anger and that would be enough to get him to leave.

John narrowed his eyebrows at Monica's back. Her emotions were going haywire tonight. While he didn't want to force her to tell him something she was obviously hiding from him, if she was in trouble, and there was something he could do… He had a plan for getting her to tell him, and while he wasn't proud of what he was about to do, desperate times called for desperate measures.

John laid a hand on Monica's shoulder and turned her toward him. She tipped her head down automatically, not wanting him to see the film of tears covering her eyes. He wasn't about to accept that, though. He wanted answers, and, by God, he was going to get them.

He placed two fingertips under Monica's chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his. Monica closed her eyes and said, "John…"

Before she could say anything else, John's lips were on hers, stifling any further protests. Her eyes flew open in surprise, as John's hands came up to grasp her face and he continued to assault her lips with his own.

She pushed him away, a look of wild-eyed confusion, pain, and lust shading her features. "What are you doing, John?" she asked, intending for her words to sound harsh and demeaning, but sounding breathless and sexually-charged instead.

"Do ya believe me now? That I care about ya, want what's best for you?" John asked, worry darkening his eyes to a navy blue.

"I can't!" Monica said, tearing herself from his grasp. She walked away from him so she wouldn't have to see the look of confusion on his face. "I can't tell you what's going on because doing so would only put you in danger." She turned to see the look of utter confusion on his face, and continued. "I've already said too much. I can't tell you anything else. I'm sorry."

John still looked like a lost puppy, but he managed to ask, "If this is about me, don't I have a right to know what's going on? Is it gonna compromise your safety if you tell me? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Monica shrugged slightly and gave him a look that said he was right. "I guess these things are inevitable when you work in law enforcement," she said, sighing, trying to act like it wasn't a big deal.

"Inevitable, my ass," John said, sulking. "If someone's settin' me up, tryin' to split us up… It ain't gonna happen. No one messes with my life and gets away with it." He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Monica asked, worried that his actions were just going to get them into more trouble.

"I'm gonna try to figure out who's behind this. I'll put a stop to this nonsense. Now, if you wanna pretend none of this is happening, you can stay here and act like I never showed up tonight. That's fine with me. You don't need to get dragged into this any further than you already are."

Monica shook her head. "I'm in this just as deep as you are. Besides, you can't go at this alone."

"Monica…" John started.

"Really, what do I have to lose?" she asked. "If this plan against us works, I'll have lost you, and I can't let that happen. You mean too much to me." She was trying desperately not to cry, because she knew once the first tear fell, she'd completely lose it.

John saw her struggling against her tears and made his way to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Monica buried her face in his chest as he said, "Not gonna happen, Mon. You'll never lose me."

Monica intertwined her fingers with his, looked up into his eyes, and knew that he was right. Brad could do everything he wanted, but he'd have to take them both down before he'd split them up.

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Monica tapped her fingers on the armrest next to her and sighed. She was nervous about what she and John were getting into here. There was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn't be separated from John, but she worried about the lengths Brad would go to in order to implicate him in a murder.

She was still completely nauseated by the recent turn of events. Brad had done some underhanded things in the past, but nothing ever this slimy. She knew he had a grudge against John, believed him to be the reason their relationship had failed, but Monica knew something else had to be going on in order for him to take such drastic measures.

John looked over at Monica and saw the look of intense concentration on her face. "What's on your mind?" he asked.

"I was just thinking how none of this even makes sense," she said. "I told you about what Skinner said. Why risk being caught planting evidence, maybe even killing a man, just to split us up? There's got to be easier and safer ways to break us up. Besides, I know Brad, and he would never do something like this. I mean, he killed Regali because he knew the bastard was involved with Luke. He obviously doesn't hold that grudge against you anymore that he did when I first started on the x-files."

"You think someone's holdin' a gun to his head," John said, pressing on the brakes as he reached a stoplight.

"How else do you explain it?" Monica asked, facing him. "What have we done recently that would even spur something like this?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out. We head down to the Headquarters and ask our favorite Assistant Directors a few probing questions." He let off the brake and pushed the gas pedal to the floor, jerking the truck forward.

Monica smirked to herself. Despite the circumstances they were under, John was handling this the way he would any case he was assigned. That was exactly what they needed to do – separate themselves from what was going on – if they wanted to succeed.

John swung the truck into a parking spot and turned off the ignition. "You ready to do this?"

Monica noticed that, for the first time that evening, John looked uncertain of his actions. She reached across the center console and squeezed his hand, reassuring him that they were doing the right thing here, that they had to get to the bottom of this in order to keep themselves out of danger.

John looked over at Monica with a bittersweet smile and squeezed her hand back. Tonight had made him think about how close he had gotten to Monica, how much he had come to expect waking up and going to work with her, and how devastated he'd be if something changed how things were.

"Let's get this over with," Monica said, releasing his hand and sliding out of the truck.

The elevator ride to the fourth floor seemed to last longer than a typical meeting with Kersh, but John and Monica finally reached Skinner's office. It was a guess that Skinner would even be there, as it was now well past midnight and had been a few hours since Monica had seen him leave the warehouse.

When the agents tried the door to his office, though, it pushed open with a squeak, confirming that Skinner – or someone, anyway – was in. As they entered the office, a voice greeted them.

"I was wondering when you two were going to show up," it said.

Monica spun around to face Skinner, who was sitting on a couch at the back of the room. He raised an eyebrow at her, as though waiting for an answer to an unasked question.

"You set this all up, didn't you?" Monica asked rhetorically. "You knew I'd tell John what was going on, and we'd come here to find answers."

"You're predictable, Agent Reyes," Skinner said, standing and walking to the pair. "Plus, you have a tendency to ignore orders and pursue your own interests, much like Mulder. I'd say Agent Doggett did a good job of picking someone to keep the x-files going."

"Sir, what does any of that have to do with what's going on?" John asked.

Skinner scratched his head as he contemplated his answer. "You're being set up, agents. And I don't think it's just Follmer who's behind this."

"That's what we were thinkin'," John said, sitting in a chair in front of Skinner's desk. "The question now is who that would be. Who has that much of a grudge against me or Monica that they'd risk getting caught framin' me for murder just to split us up?"

"What if," Monica interjected, "all of this is just some elaborate plan to get all of us here at the same time? What if there isn't any murder planned at all, just a scheme to get us here so we could all be offed at the same time?"

"Now you're really startin' to sound like Mulder," John said. "Come on, Mon. You don't really believe that, do you? I haven't heard or seen anything to suggest we're bein' followed. If you can prove…"

"You and your damn proof," Monica interrupted. "I don't need proof to know that something very wrong is going on, and I also know that trying to find proof is just going to waste precious time." She stood up and stormed out of the office.

"Aw, dammit," John said, following her path and finding her by the elevator.

"I'm sorry," he said, running a hand through his hair. "You know I got a hard time believin' somethin' unless I can see it for myself. I know somethin' bad's goin' on here, that I don't need any proof to tell me that."

"Then why do you insist I prove it to you?" Monica asked, spinning to face him, and causing him to step back in surprise.

"Because it's all I've ever known to do." The look on his face said more than his words; it said he was trying to change his ways, look at cases the way she did. "I'm sorry, Monica. I really am. We can't split up now. We gotta stick together if we're gonna get through this."

Monica gave him a small smile. "You're right. And I'm sorry for overreacting. I'm just so frustrated by the lack of information we're getting."

"I know." He combed through his hair again, then reached out for Monica's hand on impulse. "We're gonna figure everything out, though, and then maybe we can talk about other stuff."

Monica tipped her head at him, surprised by the turn in conversation. "Okay, John. I think I'd like that."

He grinned as she slipped her hand from his and headed back to Skinner's office. John's hand made its way to the small of Monica's back, where it remained until they reached the office.

And just when things were looking up, everything crashed back down.

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Just as John and Monica walked through the outer door of Skinner's office, a gunshot rang out from the inner office. The agents rushed to the inner door, drawing their own weapons and checking if the coast was clear before barging in.

As they entered, the first thing they noticed was Skinner, collapsed on the floor in front of his desk, a deep red stain spreading across his lower abdomen.

"Sir!" Monica exclaimed, running to his side, while John scanned the room for the shooter. "Who did this? Did you see his face?"

Skinner squeezed his eyes shut in pain and nodded quickly. "He looked Italian," he managed to say. "I think...I think he's in the mob." He laid his head back down and breathed out heavily.

Monica looked from Skinner to John, a look of horror on her face as she realized what was going on. The look on John's face pretty much echoed Monica's expression, and he lowered his gun in shock.

"We need to get you to the hospital, sir," Monica said, taking contol of the situation. She stood up and dialed for an ambulance from Skinner's phone, then returned to Skinner's side once done on the phone.

"It's Regali's men," John said, even though he didn't need to say it aloud. "They want revenge."

"But why us?" Monica asked. "Why us and not Brad? He was the one who killed Regali."

John sighed. "You suspected yourself that Brad was takin' money from Regali and his buddies. He mighta told 'em we were behind Regali's death, just to clear his own name."

Monica blew out an annoyed breath. "I should've suspected something like that. I just didn't want to believe that Brad would do something like this."

John nodded. "I know you trusted him, but sometimes power does strange things to people. If Follmer was about to lose his position at the Bureau, he'd most likely do anything to make sure that didn't happen. You know how persuasive he can be."

Clattering from down the hall disrupted their conversation and soon, two EMTs pushed a gurney into Skinner's office. They hurried to get Skinner on to the gurney, but were careful not to further aggravate his wound, as any professional would be.

One of the EMTs turned to John and Monica and asked, "Would one or both of you care to ride along?"

Monica looked to John for an answer. He nodded and said, "We're all he has," before looking at Skinner.

The EMT nodded, then said, "Let's get going. Time is of the essence."

As the ambulance pulled away, Brad Follmer watched from his 4th floor office window. He sighed and turned back to his desk as the vehicle disappeared from sight. He wasn't proud of what he had told Regali's men, but he was in a tight situation and needed to do something to clear his name, even if that "something" meaning John and Monica would be running from the mob for possibly the rest of their lives.

Meanwhile, John and Monica sat in the waiting room at the hospital, waiting for news on Skinner's condition. Monica wrung her hands in quiet worry, and John rubbed her back to comfort her.

"He'll be okay, Mon," he said, thought he had a feeling that Skinner wasn't the only thing she was thinking about.

She turned to him, a bittersweet smile on her face. "I know. I'm just trying to figure out how we can prove that Brad's behind this. Kersh isn't going to believe us. No one will. They're just assume we're making claims against people who have done the x-files wrong."

"Monica, calm down," John said, now rubbing her arm. "We can't give up. Where's the fightin' spirit you usually have?"

She shrugged. "I guess everything with Brad has kinda thrown me for a loop today. I don't know up from down right now, everything's so screwed up. To think I trusted Brad just makes me nauseous."

John laid a hand on her shoulder. "You had no idea that he would do this, Monica. No one likes to believe someone they care about could do something so horrible. And I hope any feelings you may still have for him won't interfere with what I plan on doing."

Monica's head shot up. "What exactly are you planning on doing, John?"

He shrugged. "Well, he has to be punished for what he's done. And since he's resorted to some pretty unorthodox measures, it's only appropriate that his punishment should be equally unothodox."

Monica's eyes widened at John's admission. "You can't go after Brad. If someone catches you... That's it. We're done for. And as much as I want to see Brad punished, at least one of us has to be pragmatic."

John faced her and took her face in his hands. "I don't want him comin' between us, that's all. I don't wanna be split up from you because of somethin' he did."

Monica closed her eyes and laid a hand over one of John's hands. "I know you're doing this for us, but we just need to let this go before we end up in even more danger." She opened her eyes to see John's eyes filled with a sadness she had encountered only a few times before. Sighing, she continued. "Please, John. Even if we're split up..."

"What, Monica?" he asked, the oceans in his eyes being replaced by fire. "I'm not going to let them get away with this. Not again. The x-files have been in danger one too many times, and now that this is our assignment, we gotta keep it goin'. As much as I may not believe in what this unit stands for, I was sent to the x-files to do a job, and that's all I'm trying to do – my job. If that means goin' after Follmer, then that's what I'm gonna do." He continued to gaze into Monica's eyes, waiting for her response.

Monica opened her mouth to speak, but Skinner's doctor suddenly appeared in front of them before she could say anything.

"Agent Doggett, Agent Reyes, I'm George Lawson," he introduced himself, shaking each agent's hand. "I took a look at Assistant Director Skinner and it looks like he'll be fine in the long run. The bullet didn't pierce any vital organs, but he'll still need a few weeks to fully recover."

"Is he awake?" Monica asked. "Can we see him?"

Dr. Lawson smiled. "Yes, he's awake, and yes, you may visit him. But don't be long. He needs his rest."

"Thank you, doctor," John said as they stood up.

The doctor watched the agents walk down the hall to Skinner's room, John's hand resting on the small of Monica's back, and smiled to himself before retreating to his office.

John and Monica entered Skinner's room, where he lied on his bed, staring out the window.

"Sir?" John asked, wondering if Skinner had heard them come in.

"This isn't over, Agents," Skinner said, still looking at the now-rising sun. "You're going to have a long walk ahead of you. I suggest getting started now."

John and Monica looked at each other. Any questions they'd had about what to do next had just been answered.

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John and Monica left the hospital dejectedly. They knew something had to be done in order to keep Follmer from pulling this act again, but the question now was what exactly that something was.

Monica turned to John, her mouth opened and words prepared to tumble out, but before she could speak, John did.

"I don't know, Monica," he said, not even turning to look at her. "I don't know what to do, so don't even ask." He continued walking, and Monica stood in place, frozen by the defeat in his voice.

"So that's it?" Monica called out to him. "You don't know what to do, so you're just going to walk away. That's nice, John."

He paused and turned to face her, but didn't walk to her. "I ain't walkin' away, Mon. Give it some fuckin' time." He then turned on his left foot and walked back to his truck, where he got in, but didn't leave.

Monica scratched her forehead. She knew he wasn't upset with her, and he just needed a minute to think. That meant she had a minute to think, too. She turned back to the hospital and headed for the vending machines.

As she slid the coins in the slot, she laughed to herself. The irony of having a cigarette machine in a hospital never failed to amuse her.

She made her way back outside, sliding a cigarette out of the pack and rummaging in her pockets for a lighter. She came up empty-handed, and said, "Damn."

"Need a light?" John was suddenly standing beside her, holding her lighter up.

Monica smirked. "How'd you know?"

John shrugged. "I saw you go in, and I had seen the cigarette machine in the cafeteria earlier. I figured with something like this, even though you technically quit... I was just connectin' A to B to C." He returned her smirk and continued. "Plus, I saw your lighter on the seat of my truck and figured you might be needin' it." He gave her a sheepish grin.

"ABCs my ass," Monica said, grinning and hitting him on the arm as she took the lighter from him. She sheltered the cigarette in her mouth as she flicked the lighter, the drew in a long plume of smoke before releasing it through pursed lips. She rested her hands on the railing of the terrace they stood on, but John picked up the hand holding her cigarette and brought it to his own mouth, dragging some smoke in a letting it out through his nose.

Monica gave him a sidelong look. "So, got any ideas for what to do next?"

John sighed. He hadn't released her hand after he took a drag of her cigarette, and he squeezed it. "Go back to the Bureau, talk to Follmer."

Monica raised an eyebrow. "How is that going to change anything?"

"Apparently you're not familiar with my idea of 'talking,'" John said, and they both started laughing. John slid his hand off Monica's, and placed it on her back as he said, "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Monica grinned at him, stuck her hand in John's back jeans pocket, and they walked to John's truck in content silence.


	13. Apocalypse Now

_**Title: Apocalypse Now  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #38 – "it's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine" – "The End Of The World As We Know It" by R.E.M.  
Word Count: 863  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: "I already know the answer, but I need to hear him tell me."  
Author's Notes: SPOILER FOR "THE TRUTH." Minor DRR implied. Monica POV.**_

I watch in nervous excitement as Mulder and Scully drive off, trailing dust from the desert floor behind them.

"Monica, come on, we gotta get out of here," John says, and I climb into the SUV Mulder and Scully left behind. I can't help but look back, knowing full well that the short conversation John and I had with them just before they took off could be the last time we hear from them.

A sharp turn forces my eyes forward and I see the grave danger we face ahead of us. A flurry of black helicopters circle just in front of us, and I can only hope we'll get out of here alive.

"Hold on tight, Mon," John orders me. "This is gonna be a bumpy ride."

I latch onto the seat divider, fingernails scratching the hard plastic, as we swerve over the sand.

"You weren't kidding!" I yell over the buzz of the helicopters continuously growing closer. It's hard to stay calm and not panic in a situation like this, but if one person can get us through this, it's John Doggett. He's stubborn and loyal and doesn't let anyone get in his way, and when you're being chased down by shadowy government players, you can't ask for much more than that.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," he says, and suddenly his hand is covering mine, grasping with tendoned tightness, and he asks, "You ready?"

I nod, and even though I'm desperately trying to look unpanicked, John must be able to see right through it, because he laces his fingers through mine for a quick moment before putting his hand back on the wheel.

My hand tingles from the loss of contact with John's, but that feeling is pushed to the back of my mind, as we're suddenly flying though the air, jumping a massive dune.

I close my eyes, not wanting to see where it is we're headed, not knowing how long we'll be suspended, far above the safety of solid ground. I feel a jolt and we're back on the ground.

As I open my eyes, I catch John glancing at me.

"You okay, Mon?" he asks, and his eyes show a concern deeper than the professional courtesey partners show, and even deeper than simple friendship. He loves me. I know that after all he's been through since he's joined this unit, he's had his life turned upside down and inside out, as we all have. Now that Mulder and Scully are gone, he's going to rely on me to be there, and I won't let him down.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine." I reach out to touch his arm, as if the act itself would be enough to tell him I would be there.

He speeds up a little as we reach an actual road and hightails our asses out of there. The helicopters appear to have lost interest in us, but I know that we can't disregard them just yet. However, any immediate danger is gone, so we can relax a little.

I look over at John. He looks calm, but intent at the same time. He hasn't given up. He knows we're not out of the woods yet, but he's confident enough in his own abilities to know that, for the moment, we'll be okay.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" he suddenly asks, drawing my from my thoughts.

I feel myself start to smile, and I have to tell him the truth. "Oh, I was just thinking about you."

He gives me a sidelong smirk. "You would be."

My jaw loosens a little, and I'm sure I'm staring at him open-mouthed. I can't believe he said that! "You're unbelievable, John. You think that even with everything that's going on, you're still so irresistable that I couldn't think about anything but you?"

He shrugs. "You're the one who said it, not me." A smile is playing on his lips. He thinks he's funny.

"Jackass," I mutter, and I can't help but smile, too. It's nice to know that we can joke around like this. Without some humor, I would've had a breakdown a long time ago. John's solidity keeps me balanced and calm, and just being with him is enough to keep me focused on what we're doing.

"Do you think we'll ever see them again?" I ask after a few moments of silence. I already know the answer, but I need to hear him tell me. Then I'll know it's real.

He shrugs. He does that a lot when he's about to lie. "Maybe. Who knows? You never know with the x-files." He grins nervously at me, like he has something to prove by telling me that. My look must be more withering than I intended, because he turns his attention back to the endless highway, sighing. "No, you're right. That was probably it. But, hey, it ain't that bad."

Now it's my turn to give him the questioning look. "How do you figure?"

He smirks at me. "We're together, aren't we?"

My lips turn up. "We sure are." As I slip my fingers through his, I know that whatever happens, we're together, and that's all that really matters.


	14. Phone Sex

**_Title: Phone Sex  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #40 – "somewhere after midnight, in my wildest fantasy; somewhere just beyond my reach, there's someone reaching back for me" - "Holding Out For A Hero" by Bonnie Tyler  
Word Count: 1,804  
Rating: R (for sexual content)  
Summary: "I've been having these...dreams lately.  
Author's Notes: If you love banter, you will love this story. You will love this story even more if you like sexually charged banter. You're welcome._**

She tossed and turned, whipping the cotton oversheet into an ivory cocoon around her legs. This was the third night she'd been kept awake by this dream, and she knew she had to do something about it, or else she'd pass out at work the next day.

Monica flipped onto her side, annoyed, and turned on the lamp next to her bed. Her phone was inches away, just begging her to pick it up and call him. She bit her lip, considering the consequences of her actions if she did, then threw her hands up in frustration. She was going to call him, and that was that.

She snatched the cell phone from the table, flipping it open and pressing the "1" on speed dial. She waited rather impatiently as the number dialed and the phone rang at the other end.

Almost immediately, there was a click, followed by, "John Doggett."

Monica let out a sigh. What was she doing? This was _John_. He'd never go for this.

"Hello? Anybody there? Monica, that you? Monica, talk to me. What's going on?"

"I'm fine, John," she finally said. "It's nothing. I shouldn't have called you."

She was about to hang up when his voice stopped her. "No. You obviously had something important to say, or else you wouldn'ta called."

Monica closed her eyes. She had to go through with this, as much as she didn't want to. "You'll have to promise you'll listen and not judge me."

"Of course, Mon." He sounded concerned now, and she mentally kicked herself for making it sound so important.

"I've been having these...dreams lately," she started, putting her hand over her eyes. This was embarrassing.

"Dreams, Mon?" John was asking. "What kind of dreams? They must be pretty bad if they're keeping you up."

"No, no, they're not bad," Monica said. "They're about...you."

The line was silent for moment, and Monica imagined John red-faced on the other end. Knowing his partner was having sexual fantasies about him was probably going to make work awkward. Finally, he spoke again. "What are they about?"

Monica sighed. How hard was he going to make this? "I think you know, John. Do I have to say it?"

"I want you to tell me, Mon."

Monica's eyes widened as she realized what was going on. He wanted her to tell him about her dreams. Her _sexually explicit _dreams.

"John," she murmured into the phone.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he said, and there was a click as he hung up.

Monica's mouth was open in complete shock. He was coming over. They were – were they? They couldn't! If Skinner found out, or Brad... No, she wasn't going to think about Skinner or Brad or anyone else at the FBI except for John.

She slid out of bed, padding across her bedroom floor to the bathroom. If he was coming over, and if he was coming over for what she thought he was, she had to look presentable and not like she had been up half the night, even if she had been. She splashed some water on her face and ran a brush through her tangled locks. She was just finishing brushing her teeth when her phone rang.

Monica practically tripped over a towel lying in the bathroom doorway as she rushed to answer the phone. She landed on her bed and picked up the phone, clicking it on and saying, "Monica Reyes."

"I thought you might be able to keep me entertained for the ride over."

Monica grinned. John was really getting into this. She liked this new side of him. "What should I do?"

"Well, you can start by tellin' me 'bout that dream. Musta been pretty hot to keep you from sleepin'."

"Oh, it was." She laid back on her bed, feeling like she was back in high school, talking dirty with her boyfriend on the phone. "You were doing all kinds of naughty things that were very unprofessional."

John chuckled, the low growl to his voice making Monica warm in places only that dream had made her warm in. "And tell me just what you did to punish me, Ms. Reyes?"

"Well," Monica drawled. She knew he had to be almost there. He was going to have to _work_ for anymore. "I don't know that it's appropriate phone fare. I mean, what if someone's listening in? We do work on the x-files, after all."

"Oh, come on, Mon," John groaned. "You're killin' me here."

Monica shrugged as though he could see her through the phone. "Just think of it this way – there'll be more to look forward to once you get here." She was torturing him, she knew, but she wanted to see how far she could push him, how much he'd take.

John let out another sexy chuckle. "Oh, you are going to get it once I get there, which, oh, would you look at that? is right now."

"You're joking."

"Look for yourself."

Monica rushed to her window and, sure enough, there was John's truck. She hung up her phone and ran out of her bedroom to the entryway. As she opened the door, John stormed out of the elevator, looking like a man on a mission. Monica could feel that warmth spreading across her body again. John looking determined was such a turn-on.

He stopped at her door and they just stared at each other for a minute before John grabbed her by the back of her neck and drew her in for a long kiss. As they pulled away, Monica smirked.

"That all you got, G-Man?"

John shook his head, grinning. "You better believe it's not." He stepped inside, slamming the door shut. "I hope your walls are soundproof, because you're gonna we makin' a lot of noise."

Monica swaggered up to him. "I'm not a screamer."

Her face was mere centimeters from his, begging him to give in and kiss her already. He breathed a stream of hot air out from his nostrils, not willing to surrender. The tension was killing them both – their body language gave that much away.

"Wanna bet?" His voice was husky, filled with lust.

Monica kept her cool, smirking slightly. "Not a gambler, either."

Their eyes remained fixed on each other, and then suddenly Monica felt her feet leaving the floor. John was picking her up, swinging her into a fireman's carry, and headed to her bedroom.

"I thought you wanted me to tell you about my dream," Monica said into his shoulder, enjoying his smell and warmth.

"Get talking, then," he said, grunting as he heaved the both of them onto her bed.

Monica caught her breath and started talking. "Well, the dream starts out at work..."

"Ooh, kinky," John interjected, slipping off his t-shirt.

"Shush," Monica laughed, swatting at him. "So, it's been a long day, a _really_ long day, we just got done working a case on, what was it? Bigfoot sightings? The Loch Ness Monster?"

"Mon," John drawled. "Get on with it."

"Just be patient," she told him, enjoying torturing him. "So, as I was saying, long day, so we decide we're gonna go get a few drinks."

"Aha, so this was alcohol-induced seduction. I see how you operate, Ms. Reyes."

Monica stared at him open-mouthed. "You be quiet. Anyways, we're at the bar, drinking and playing pool, when suddenly the alcohol hits me and I start to fall over."

"Someone can't hold their alcohol," John teased in a sing-song voice.

Monica swatted at him again. "Before I can hit the ground, I feel these strong, muscular arms wrap around my waist," she began rubbing her hands up and down his arms, "and when I look up, I see..."

"Let me guess," John said. "I'm looking down, ready to ravish you."

Monica grinned. "I look up, and who should be helping me up but a certain Walter Skinner." She burst out laughing at John's expression.

"Skinner?" he asked. "What the hell is Skinner doing in your sexual fantasy?"

"You see Skinner and," Monica started up again, trying to stop laughing, "decide you're insanely jealous. You're not about to let any other man get his hands on me!"

"Damn right I'm not," he said, moving in to nuzzle her neck.

"As soon as Skinner knows I'm okay, he steps away, and that's when you come up and, ooh," Monica said, getting distracted by John's nuzzling.

"And ooh?" John asked into her neck, his breath tickling her skin.

"And you say you think I've had enough and you have better plans for the night, anyway."

John pulled away to look Monica in the eyes. "So that's when I get my way with you."

Monica shrugged. "Essentially."

A smirk slowly crawled across his face. "Essentially? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," she scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, "maybe I had a few tricks up my sleeve, too."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Spill, G-Woman."

"Okay," she agreed. "You bring me back here, and you think by offering to leave, you'll look like the good guy. Of course, I see right through that. I'm all, no, no, you don't have to go. Please, sit. So, we make our way into the living room, where we relax on the couch."

"Come on, Monica. Get to the good part," John said, whining.

"Patience, my man," she said, poking his nose. "As we're sitting, you decide you're going to be all sly and slip your arm around my shoulders. But I'm oh so much smarter than that. As you're bringing your arm down, I suddenly jump into your lap." As she described the last part, she hopped into his lap. "Much like this. And then I did this." She proceeded to lean in and smother his mouth with hers.

After a few minutes of steamy kissing, John pulled away. "What then?"

Monica gave him a devilish grin. "I think you get the picture."

He smirked back and went in for another kiss, laying her down on the bed. He pulled away long enough to unbutton and remove both his and her pants, then gavce her another kiss.

"Oh, yeah, I think I've got the picture," he said before plunging himself deep inside her.

They rocked back and forth on Monica's bed, revelling in the pleasure created when their bodies were joined as one, until their passions overtook them and they fell apart, spent.

John rolled off Monica, lying next to her and catching his breath. He sat up after he could breathe normally again, leaning on his elbow, and faced Monica. "So...same time next week?"

Monica smiled. "This sure is a great plan we've got going," she confirmed. She looked over at John and they started laughing as John went in for yet another kiss.


	15. Hindsight Is 20 20

**Title: Hindsight Is 20/20  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #2 – "I write the words you want me to; with the words I dare to use" from "The Misery" by Sonata Arctica  
Word Count: 423  
Rating: PG  
Summary: When people are in love, they see things that aren't there.  
Author's Notes: Yeah, this is kinda fluffy, mentions John's ex, so minor minor spoilers there. DRR, fo shizzle.**

_Every word that comes out of my mouth is something he wants me to say. I can't tell him the truth. That I'm not in love with him anymore. This relationship was over long before it started._

"Wow," John breathes as he reads the words his ex-wife wrote in her personal diary. "I never realized it was that bad."

Monica places a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think anyone can really see how bad something is until it's over."

He turns in his seat, looking up at her. "But how could I miss that she was lying to me this whole time? I mean, I'm a _cop_, for Chrissake. I detect lies for a livin', and I couldn't even see that my own _wife _was lying to me? I don't accept that."

"When people are in love, they see things that aren't there. They make things out to be better than they are."

"You tryin' to say I'm in denial?" John asks. "Come on, Mon. I'm not that naive."

"Fine," Monica says, slipping her hand off his shoulder, "but how else do you explain it?" She turns away from him to look out the window at the alley outside. "Love does some crazy things to people."

John studies her back, pondering her words. He knows what she says is true – love has made him do some pretty strange things, like what he's about to do now.

He stands and walks to where she's standing, stopping inches behind her. He reaches out and brushes her hair from her face, then leaning in, whispers against her ear, "I know, Monica. Look what you've done to me."

Monica gasps. "You sure?" she asks.

He turns her around to face him so she can see the look on his face. "I still don't believe that Barb didn't feel the same way 'bout me as I did 'bout her, but I do know how I feel 'bout you. And hopefully that feeling is mutual and I'm not in denial with you, too."

"John," Monica breathes. "Of course it's mutual. I didn't think you'd pick up on it. I mean, of course I hoped you would, but I never expected..."

John smiles. "Guess I'm not as blind as you thought when it comes to love, huh?"

Monica grins and throws her arms around him. "Nope. I guess you've got 20/20 vision when it comes to matters of the heart."

As they pull away from their hug, John leans in and brushes a kiss across her lips. Perfect indeed.


	16. Keeping Promises

**Title: Keeping Promises  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #43 – "if you leave, I won't cry, I won't waste a single day; but if you leave, don't look back, I'll be running the other way" from "If You Leave" by Orchestral Manouevres In The Dark  
Word Count: 432  
Rating: PG  
Summary: I don't just go breakin' promises. Especially not to you.  
Author's Notes: Spoilers for "The Truth." I really write about that a lot. Damn. DRR implied.**

"I promise I'll never leave you."

That's what he told her when they first made love. That night, that cool April night, she gave her whole self to him. Trusted him that he'd keep his word, that he really never would leave her.

That was before today, the day the x-files as they knew them came to an end. The minute Mulder was accused of murder. They knew it would be a tough climb to get above this one, and they'd have to struggle to stay in the FBI, stay together, stay alive.

As they speed along the New Mexico highway, Monica turns to John. "You remember what you said the first time we made love?" she asks.

The look on his face is one of pure disbelief. "What?" He's upset. "What kind of – I can't think about that right now. No, I don't, I don't remember."

Monica closes her eyes, the sting of his words biting holes in her ego. "You said you'd never leave me," she says, barely audible.

John nearly runs off the road in his surprise. "Monica, what... Do you think I'm gonna leave you? Don't think that. Don't ever think that. I'll never leave you. I promised. I don't just go breakin' promises. Especially not to you." He fumbles his hand around the center console in search of hers, and, finding it, clasps it tightly in his.

Monica's looking down, trying to keep a smile off her face, trying to be serious. Her gaze falls to her sand-dusted pants, and it's like seeing them reminded her of the real reason they're out here, because she says, "This'll never be over."

John steals a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, then focuses his eyes on the road again. "You can't let this get to you. We gotta fight. It can't go on forever. And even if it does, we gotta live. We can't just let this thing rule our lives. We do that and we may as well be dead." He stops talking and glances at Monica, who has a tiny smile on her face. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Well," she starts, turning in her seat to face John, "it wasn't like I thought you were going to leave me, but I just wanted to hear you say it."

"You know how I feel, Mon," he says, taking her hand. "I'm not going to leave you now, or ever, not if I have anything to say about it."

Monica squeezes his hand and smiles, knowing that every word he says is true.


	17. Ready As I'll Ever Be

**Title: Ready As I'll Ever Be  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #27 – "I must confess, that my loneliness is killing me now; don't you know I still believe, that you will be here" – yes, it is "Baby, One More Time" by Britney Spears  
Word Count: 1,460  
Rating: PG  
Summary: You know, I've been thinkin' about us.  
Author's Notes: Post-Release. DRR implied. Angsty Angst McAngst for awhile, but a happy ending. And also? It's quite difficult to eat a banana and type/do things on the computer at the same time.**

"I'm so glad you're here," he whispered into her hair. "I couldn'ta done this without you."

She clung tighter to his shaking frame, breathing in the smell of the salt water behind them. "I wouldn't have been anywhere but here, John. You know that."

He pulled back and studied her face. Tears were rolling down her olive skin, causing her cheeks to glisten in the dusky light. He reached up with an awkward hand and brushed the side of her left cheek, erasing the wetness.

John's motions caused Monica to reach up herself, quickly rubbing her face. "Sorry, sorry. God, look at me. Here I'm supposed to be comforting you, and _I'm _the one crying."

"No, 'sokay." He stood there, hands at his sides, not quite sure what to do next.

"Did you have anything planned?" He gave her a questioning look. "I mean, for Luke. Like some kind of memorial service or something... I'm sorry. I'm not making any sense. I guess I'm at a loss for what to say."

He didn't say anything right away, just stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and toed the grass between them. A few minutes passed, then he looked up at her. "Hey, Mon, you wanna go get something to eat?"

She smiled. "Sure. Whatever you want." She turned away from him and walked around her vehicle to the driver's side and climbed in, while John continued to stand where he was. Monica knew better than to rush him – he had finally come to terms with what had happened to his son, and releasing him was probably the hardest thing he'd had to do yet. She'd give him all the time in the world.

John turned and looked out on the ocean. Luke was free now, and so was he. A huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he felt lighter than he had in years. His thoughts eventually turned to the woman sitting waiting in her SUV for him. Monica. Geez. She had been there since the beginning. Through the entire case, through his separation and eventual divorce from Barbara, right up until now, finding Luke's killer and releasing his son's ashes.

He sighed and turned back to the waiting vehicle. Monica was sitting there, flipping through radio stations as she waited. He smiled and opened the door, causing Monica to look up. "You ready?" she asked.

He pondered her question. Right now, it had so many different meanings. Ready to move on, finally feel at rest about Luke, ready to just physically leave the beach, ready to mentally leave this situation, and the question that was pressing the most at the back of his mind, ready to move on with his life. With her.

"John? Did you hear me?" Monica asked softly, drawing him from his thoughts.

He started. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Let's go. I'm ready." He climbed in, slamming the door.

Monica drew her seat belt across her lap, fastened it, and turned to him again. "So, where to?"

He looked at her for a moment, head tilted, eyes shining. "How 'bout my place?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to go get something to eat."

"I have food." He kept her gaze, letting her know he was completely serious.

"Ookay, whatever you say." She shoved the key in the ignition, turned it, and her car rumbled to life. As she was backing out, John spoke again.

"You know, I've been thinkin' about us."

Monica jerked the wheel in her surprise, almost hitting a tree in the process. "About...us?" she managed.

"Yeah, I mean, you're right. I can't shut you out forever. And, to be perfectly honest, I'm sick and tired of bein' alone."

Monica smiled. "Well, can we wait till we get to your place to talk? That might be a little more...intimate than my car."

John grinned. "Sure, Mon."

She backed out again, and this time he stayed silent, not wanting to cause another near-accident. They got back onto the highway heading back into Georgetown, and John spoke then.

"You know, Dana told me something interesting earlier."

Monica shifted her gaze to him briefly. "Oh?"

"Yeah, she said she was talking with Barb, and Barb actually thought me and you'd be good together."

Monica kept a straight face, but the hint of a giddy smile played at her lips. "She's a smart woman."

John scoffed. "Yeah, she's smart alright. She's the one who asked for a divorce."

The smile starting on Monica's face died instantly at John's words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

He smiled slightly. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

There was silence for a few more moments, then Monica spoke. "So, do you think she was right?"

"'Bout the divorce?"

"No, about...us." She let out a deep breath, focusing all her attention on the road.

"Well, yeah." He saw her eyebrows raise in surprise, and continued. "Women are perceptive when it comes to stuff like...love."

Monica let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, I suppose we're a little more preoccupied with the idea than most men." Her face was pinkening, and John noticed, but chose not to comment on it.

"I like to think that I can read people, too," he said, and Monica perked up her ears, "but I dunno how I went so long without seeing how you..." He trailed off, waiting for her to finish.

"Wow," she said, at a loss for words. Then she laughed. "And here I always thought I was being so obvious."

John looked down at his hands. "I guess I had other things on my mind." He looked out the window and continued. "I was so preoccupied with finding Luke's killer that I shut everyone out. No wonder Barb divorced me. I wasn't paying her any attention, only Luke."

"But he was your son, John," Monica said softly. "You don't have to apologize for searching for the person who took him from you. I would have done the same thing had he been my son."

John turned his gaze back to her. "And you still did so much, Mon. Even when you had no reason to, you helped me. He could have been another case to you, but he wasn't. I didn't recognize everything you were doin'. I treated you badly. I'm sorry for that."

Monica smiled grimly. "You weren't in a good place. I know that. Our lives aren't over. You have time to change your relationships."

"That's right. And I'm gonna start with ours."

Monica smiled. "That sounds wonderful." They pulled into John's driveway, and she shut off the car. She turned in her seat to face him. "You ready?"

He nodded. "Can't get more ready."

They unbuckled their seat belts, listening to the hiss as they slapped back into place, then got out, taking slow, purposeful steps to the front door.

"You're absolutely sure?" Monica blurted out just as John was about to push the door open.

He sighed and removed his hand from the knob. "I told you I was. I wouldn't lie to you, Mon. Not about this."

She nodded. "Just making sure. I don't want you doing anything you don't want to."

John pushed the door open this time, ushering her in. "Mon, I don't understand," he said, removing the key from the lock and then turning to her. "You sound more unsure about this out of the two of us."

"I'm not," she assured him, removing her shoes and walking into the living room, where she sat on the sofa. He tilted his head at her, signalling that he didn't completely believe her. "Really."

He seemed satisfied with that response and went to sit next to her. "So, you hungry? I can make something."

Monica shook her head. "No, but you go ahead."

"'Kay," he said, standing and striding into the kitchen.

She heard him rummaging in the refrigerator for a few minutes before standing herself and deciding to join him. John looked up in surprise when she entered the room.

"Thought you weren't hungry," he said.

She shrugged. "I'm not. Just thought I'd help."

He shrugged as well and went back to the fridge. Finally he poked his head out and shut the door in frustration. "I lied." Monica's expression automatically turned to hurt, and he quickly continued. "About having food."

She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "So, you're suggesting...?"

He thought for a moment, then his eyes met hers in remembrance. "I know this little.."

"-stand on M Street," she finished for him. They shared a grin, and as they slipped out the door again, John put his arm around Monica and she rested her head on his shoulder. They weren't alone anymore.


	18. Only Time Will Tell

**Title: Only Time Will Tell  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #8 – "I'm finding my own words, my own little stage; my own epic drama, my own scripted page" from "Rough Draft" by Yellowcard  
Word Count: 326  
Rating: G  
Summary: Monica expostulates on life after joining the x-files and, of course, her relationship with John.  
Author's Notes: Monica POV. Set between season & season 9. Minor spoiler for "This Is Not Happening" and general spoilers for season 8. More Monica-centric angst than anything else.**

Suddenly, my life is making sense again. I came here, to Washington, because John called me up to get my viewpoint on a case, and now, now I'm on the x-files, the unit I've always dreamed of working.

I'm not saying it's easy – it's not, not by a long shot. But it is a refreshing change of pace. Working in New Orleans was great – the nice weather, great food, all the jazz you could ask for – but you can only work so many voodoo cases before it gets old. So when John offered me the chance to join him up here, who was I to say no? Washington is _the _bureau to be in – if you really want to get noticed, this is where you gotta be. And I had already gotten entirely too involved in this whole alien thing to just walk away from it all.

Then there was John.

I'd be lying if I said he wasn't a big part of why I stayed. I had feelings for him, _have _feelings for him. I know I shouldn't have given in so easily to my heart, because the last thing he needed was me pining over him with everything that was going on in his life, first with Luke, then with Barbara, but it's not like you get to choose who you're going to fall in love with.

So here I am, in Washington, with my life finally seeming to fall back into place. John asked me the other day while we were walking back from lunch if I was happy, and for the first time in quite some time, I was able to say yes. Just the chance to see him again, after all this time that's gone by, to have another chance at maybe... That means more than this job ever could.

Only time will tell what's ahead for us, and I can only hope that time will be kind to us both.


	19. Lost

**Title: Lost  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #44 - "love, I get so lost, sometimes; days pass, and this emptiness fills my heart" from "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel (I didn't look to make sure, but I'm pretty sure that's the song...I heart it)  
Word Count: 314  
Rating: PG  
Summary: What's inside John's head regarding himself and Monica.  
Author's Notes: SUPER FUCKING ANGST AHEAD. Seriously, this is like almost on the verge of emo. It's not, but seriously. It's angsty. But with those lyrics, how could it NOT be?**

He dreams of the life he could be leading - living with Monica, loving her, being happy and laughing as their children play in their huge front yard. They'd be off the x-files, turning them over to someone better suited for the job, someone who didn't have loved ones to worry about.

He sighs to himself at his fantasy. Him and Monica. It was something he wanted - badly - but this unit was so dangerous, so sensitive, that he couldn't risk telling her and having her feel the same. If that happened, everything would be great while it lasted, but what if someone discovered their feelings? Someone who wanted all those working the x-files to suffer? They'd be split up. He couldn't let that happen.

And then there's the possibility of one of them being killed in the line of duty. They're FBI agents. It's a very real possibility. The thought of Monica being yanked from his life like that makes John want to die himself. Living his life without her wouldn't be much of a life at all. She's the one he's been doing all this for - she convinced him after Luke that he shouldn't give up on life, on living, that he should live the life his son would have wanted him to lead, be happy. Then Barb and he divorced, and his life had gotten even darker. It seemed like his life was crumbling, like he had done something so inexcusable that he was being punished by having everyone who meant something to him taken away.

Everyone except Monica.

That's what made this all so hard. All he wanted to do sometimes was just blurt it out - I love you, Monica, with every bit of myself - but realistically, he knows he can't, and until he knows it's safe to tell her how he feels, he'll remain lost.


	20. Protection

**Title: Protection  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #14 – "you're hiding something 'cause it's burning through your eyes; I try to get it out, but all I hear from you are lies" from "All Downhill From Here" by New Found Glory  
Word Count: 948  
Rating: R (for language)  
Summary: I want to protect you all the time.  
Author's Notes: Monica POV. DRR suggested. Angsty, but resolved angst.**

This is the third time this week we've went out for a drink after work. He never mentions if something's bothering him, and _that _bothers me, because if he is having a hard time, I want to help him. I saw the way he shut down after Luke. I was still finishing up the paperwork, conducting interviews, you know, the usual, and when I went to make my final interview with him and Barbara, he hardly said a word. I prayed then that I'd never see him like that again, because it was one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life. And now, he's been quieter than usual. I hope something's not troubling him.

"John," I say, and he jolts a little, jerking the wheel slightly to the left. "Sorry. Didn't mean to surprise you."

"Nah, I guess I'm just jumpy today," he says, his eyes focused intently on the shiny Georgetown street in front of us.

"Something on your mind lately?" I hate to push him, but someone has to do it.

His hands tighten a little around the wheel. Yep. Something's definitely wrong. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Well, this _is _the third time this week we've gone out after work," I say, nonchalant as if it's a discussion about the weather. "I just thought that maybe something was bothering you."

"Why does somethin' always gotta be fuckin' wrong?" he suddenly storms. I've broke him. "Why can't we just go out for a few beers after work like normal people? Jesus Christ, Monica, why can't we just live a normal life, stop pretendin' about everything?"

I know he's waiting for a response, but he needs time to cool off first. As soon as he opens his mouth to apologize, I interrupt him. "I'm not pretending about _anything_, John. What you see is what you get. I'm not hiding myself or my feelings."

"I know," he says, and pulls the truck over to the side of the street, parallel parking in front of the bar. He runs a hand through his hair, like he's about to make a big confession. "I know, Mon. You're all," his arms flail around in search of the right word, "_open_ about yourself, and me, well, I'm just not."

He stops talking, extracting the key from the ignition, and then turns back to me. Oh, God, his eyes... There's definitely something he wants to tell me.

"How the hell am I supposed to do my job? All I can think about is protectin' you..." he starts.

"I'm your partner." I can't help but interrupt. If he feels guilty about my safety, he has no reason to be. "We're supposed to have each other's backs. I appreciate that you..." He's shaking his head, so I stop.

"No, Mon. It's not just that. I want to protect you all the time." He looks down at his hands. "I want to protect you the way I couldn't with Luke."

Oh, God. Ohgodohgodohgod. I can't help it. I gasp. "John..."

"I know, you don't need this shit," he says, and he unbuckles his seat belt, the click sounding as loud as a gunshot in the quiet cab. "I was just trying to be open, tell you how I felt, because I thought I might feel better if I did. But I don't. I feel like shit. I shouldn't have put that on you."

Stupid fucking seat belt. Get off me. My arms are around him, and I'm squeezing tight, and it doesn't even matter that my knee is grinding into the center console, he can't do this. "No. You stop right there. You're not putting anything on me, John. Don't you dare feel guilty about this. If you only knew how much I want to keep you safe." Great, I'm crying now.

His hands move over my back, and the seriousness of the situation suddenly hits me. John just admitted... What _did _he admit?

"John..." I pull away so I can look at his face. "What...?"

"I've been denyin' it for a long time," he starts, and then it's like his mouth is moving but nothing's coming out. He's saying it. I should be paying attention, because he's admitting he loves me, maybe that he's always loved me, but probably not because he's not that much of a romantic, but I'm just thinking about him telling me the words and not actually listening to him say them.

"I love you, too," I blurt out, interrupting whatever he was saying.

His eyes register shock. "What?"

Oh, shit. I knew I should have been paying attention. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. This was your confession."

"No, no, Monica. I'm glad you said something." He pauses. "I didn't know you felt the same way."

His hand is warm in mine. "Of course I do. How could I not, after everything you've been through, everything you survived? You're a source of strength for so many people. You have so much conviction in everything you do, it's impossible for me to not love you." He looks up and has a small smile on his face. "You gonna be okay now?"

"Yeah, I am." He squeezes my hand a little, then releases it and reaches for his seat belt again.

"What are you doing? Aren't we even going to go in?"

He shakes his head. "I don't need alcohol. I've got all I need right here."

He smiles at me, and I can feel my heart flip-flopping in my chest as I respond.

"Let's go home."

He shoves the key back into the ignition and as we pull back onto the street, I know he's all I need, too.


	21. The Hike

**Title: The Hike  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #28 – "through long December nights, we talk in words of rain or snow; while you, though chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go" from "Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow" by Jethro Tull  
Word Count: 1,358  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: You musta really wanted to go hiking.  
Author's Notes: A cute, slightly fluffy fic. Not much angst (for once).**

"This was some great idea, Monica," John complained, lifting his leg over a huge fallen log, then turning back to help Monica over. He mimicked her words. " 'Let's go out hiking. It'll be fun.'" He paused in his trudging and turned to her. "I ain't havin' any fun."

Monica rolled her eyes at him. "I didn't realize the weather was going to be so bad. If I would've known about the snow, I would've postponed the trip."

"Didn't you even think about checking the weather forecast?"

"I _did_ check the forecast. You know how unreliable those things are. I didn't think anything of it."

"And just what did the forecast say?"

She grimaced. "Six to twelve inches of snow."

John threw up his hands and started walking again. "You musta really wanted to go hiking."

She clumsily clumped through the snow in an attempt to catch up to him. "I did. We never get to spend any time together outside work, and I thought this would be nice."

He stopped and faced her. "So why didn't you just call me and say, 'Hey, John, look's like hiking's out. Let's go catch a movie instead.'?"

Monica laughed, looking at the ground, then back up at him. "I guess I thought you'd back out of it, think I was pushing you into something."

"Well, are you?"

Monica stopped breathing for a moment, her mind blank. "I guess I," she started, then cleared her throat and started again, "I guess I never thought about it that way."

John nodded slowly, realizing the situation he had just put them in. "I, uh, I didn't mean to suggest..."

"No," Monica interrupted him, "of course not. I know that. My words, not yours."

John continued to simply look at her, knowing this had turned into an incredibly awkward, uncomfortable situation, unsure of what to say next. Finally, he raised an eyebrow, drew his mouth up in a smirk, and shook his head, turning and trudging through the snow again.

Monica stared at his back, narrowing her eyebrows, before rushing to catch up. When she was only a few steps behind him, she opened her mouth to speak, but John beat her to it.

"You really have no idea what I'm thinking, do you?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She looked confused. "What? No, I guess I don't...What..."

"You're always so worried about me thinking the wrong thing," he interrupted, stopping abruptly and swiveling to face her, so quickly that Monica didn't see it coming and bumped into his chest. She looked up at him, an expression of slight anxiety on her face. A large snowflake drifted down and landed on her nose, and John reached up and gently brushed it away. "Just relax," he said quietly, then turned again and started walking.

Monica stood paralyzed for a moment, thrown off by the brief contact and John's words, then collected her thoughts and followed John.

"Where are we going?" she called out as she gained on him.

"You're the one who wanted to come out here, you tell me," John called back.

Monica huffed. He was right. She was the one who had planned this whole thing, and yet, she was letting him take charge. As always. She could imagine him smiling at her nervousness and scowled. She didn't know how he did it, but he always managed to get to her.

"Yo, Monica," John said, breaking her train of thought. She looked at him and saw him trying not to smirk. "Gonna tell me where we're going?"

She smiled, covering her annoyance. "Gladly." She stomped up to him and continued on past, not even glancing at him,

John raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and followed after her. "So where..."

"Shh," she suddenly ordered him, slowing to a stop.

He crept up beside her, concerned. When he reached her side, he leaned in and whispered, "Why are we bein' quiet?"

Monica turned to face him, all seriousness. "There's something out there."

"What?" he asked. She had certainly gotten his attention now.

"I don't know," Monica admitted, kneeling to the ground and feeling the snow around her.

John joined her in crouching. "So what are we gonna do?"

"Well," Monica said, facing him, "I am going to do this." She suddenly raised her hand and smashed a pile of snow on John's head.

He sat there in shock, mouth open, as Monica grinned. That would teach him a lesson. She turned to walk away, which she should have _known_ was a bad idea, when she was pulled backwards and felt wetness and cold against her back.

She shrieked and did a jig to realease the snow from her coat. "You weasel!" she accused, a smile on her face. Try as she might, she couldn't be mad at him.

He shrugged. "'Twas the least I could do," he said, striding up to her. "After all, what else are you supposed to do when someone clobbers you over the head with a snowball?"

Monica's mouth fell open in disbelief. "I did not _clobber_ you. You were asking for it, anyway."

They started walking again, and John couldn't help but ask, "How do you figure?"

She shot him a dubious look. "You just love getting me into tight positions."

John grinned, not responding to her comment, but waiting to see if she would realize the double meaning of her words.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, and he knew she had. "I didn't mean that. You," she stopped and poked a finger into his chest, "just make me all flustered."

"Is that so?" John asked, the smile on his face fading.

"Yeah, maybe it's the way you talk or how you look at me or maybe it's just your body," she replied, snaking a hand up his chest, while her other hand curled around to his back.

"God, Mon, I had no idea." He moved one of his own hands to her back and with the other, quickly reached in back of him and captured Monica's hand, causing her to shriek again and empty the small collection of snow she had gathered.

She narrowed her eyebrows at him. "You think you're smart, don't you? I'll show you what – Aahh!" She screamed as John pushed her down in the snow, covering her head in fluffy white powder. She sat up, shaking it from her hair, and glared at him. "I am going to get you."

"Stop talking and come get me, then." John grinned at her wickedly.

"That sounds like a challenge to me," Monica said, and lunged at him, managing to knock him over on his back. She remained straddling his hips, proud of herself, when she realized John wasn't trying to fight back. She looked down and saw him looking up at her with a serious look on his face. "I should probably..." She started to move off him as she talked, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her. She closed her eyes. "John..."

"No, come on," he said forcefully. "Look at me, Mon. This wasn't a mistake. None of this was. I know how you feel about me." She looked away from him, not sure of what he was going to say next. He pushed her chin back towards him. "Hey, don' worry. I feel the same way 'bout you. Don't you know that?"

Monica sighed, feeling the cold winter air fill her lungs. "I do, John. It's just... There's so much at risk here. I don't want anything to happen that's gonna split us up, you know? The Bureau finds out..."

"Hey, shh," John ordered quietly, sitting up a little and brushing some hair from her face. "I'm sure everyone thinks there's something goin' on already."

She giggled a little at that, and John grinned. "You're right," she said, nodding. "So..."

She was cut off by John kissing her gently. When they pulled away from each other, John asked, "Is that what you were gonna ask?"

Monica smiled and shook her head, pushing herself to her feet and holding out her hand for John to take. "Come on. We've got a hike to finish."


	22. The Nature of Trust

**Title: The Nature of Trust  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #48 – "we're made out of blood and rust; looking for someone to trust, without a fight" from "Honey and the Moon" by Joseph Arthur  
Word Count: 535  
Rating: PG  
Summary: But she chose to focus on something she could control – her feelings for John.  
Author's Notes: Pretty much a Monica character study. No real dialogue, which is a shame, because I do love the witty banter. Maybe next time. And seriously, I'm sorry about the wait. It's been way too long, I know. I've made a conscious decision to get my challenges finished.**

* * *

Trust. It had always been something Monica Reyes had taken for granted, and she'd always been very open with who she trusted. But then she joined John Doggett on the x-files unit, and that comfort was taken from her.

She still trusted John, always would trust him, as he symbolized a part of her life she'd never readily be able to put behind her. They had first met investigating his son's disappearance, when she was first starting work at the Bureau, and Luke's case affected her in a way no other case had until that point or since. That kind of connection couldn't be severed. Still, the amount of secrets and distrust or mistrust involved with working this unit got to her.

There were times she wished she still smoked, the job was so stressful. But she chose to focus on something she could control – her feelings for John.

Yes, it was no secret that she had always harbored a little extra something for John, and while she tried to keep it to herself, not pressure him into anything, it came out occasionally. And that's not to say that she was happy with herself for letting her feelings be known. They were expected to maintain a professional relationship, and while a mutual friendship was accepted and even encouraged, romantic involvement was not. Romance only adds confusion to partnerships, and can lead to bad decisions in the line of duty.

Monica had always thought something with John would be different. He was so rational, logical, and he was loyal to a default. She knew why he didn't let her in, and wasn't expecting anything overwhelmingly romantic from him. Well, okay, that would be nice, but it wasn't what she was looking for from him. All she desired was for him to not feel guilty anymore, to be able to look at her and say, "Yes, I can move on."

She's not looking for commitment, knows she can't expect that, but she knows with him, she'd get it regardless. It's something she's always loved about him, and something she can't stand, too. He's never willing to back off, let bygones be bygones, and it's frustrating when they're working a case and something doesn't go their way. Not that she just lets things go without caring, but if something is a lost cause, she's not about to let that affect her for the rest of her life. John is so committed to perfection, though, that he can't live with anything less than that.

A relationship with John would be far from perfection, Monica knows, but that doesn't matter to her. Flaws build character, make them stronger people, and would help build a stronger relationship. That's something she can live with, and if one day, they did find themselves in a relationship, Monica hopes she could show John he could live with it, too, and not just live with their flaws, merely tolerating them, but embracing them, realizing they're what make each of them who they are.

She trusts him, she loves him, and though they both are flawed people, Monica knows – the trust and love she holds for him are as close to perfect as it can get.


	23. The Importance of Foreplay

**Title: The Importance of Foreplay  
Fandom: The X-Files  
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes  
Prompt: #13 - "I will never hold you underneath for me, maybe only just enough so you can breathe" from "Drowning" by Rufio  
Word Count: 3,300 (hell yes)  
Rating: A very hard R  
Summary: ****"I don't know, but you better do it fast before we're not in the mood anymore," Monica responded, getting hotter just thinking about how much trouble they could get in if anyone found out.  
Author's Notes: Heh, I was SO RIGHT about the witty banter this time. It's almost all it is. Plus sex. Oh yes. Got some Drippy sex going on (and I mean that in strictly the ship name sense, not the descriptive way . . . I'll stop).**

* * *

John shoved a handful of folders into his briefcase. "So, got any plans this weekend, Mon?"

She shrugged, sliding off her glasses and folding them. "Who knows. I'm sure there'll be something interesting on the Discovery Channel." John snorted in response, and she gave him a look. "Don't tell me your plans are more exciting."

He shook his head, grinning, then paused, contemplating his next words. "Say, we should do somethin'."

Monica raised an eyebrow at him. "What did you have in mind?"

He shrugged, nonchalant. "I dunno. There might be a good movie showin' somewhere . . ."

Monica grinned. "Are you asking me out on a date, Agent Doggett?"

John rolled his eyes. "Come on, Mon, can't two friends go out and see a movie together?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose they can . . ."

"And it wouldn't actually be a date unless I took you out to dinner somewhere first," John interrupted her.

Monica nodded, contemplating that idea. "Right, right, of course not. You know, there is a new Thai place I've been meaning to check out . . ."

John groaned. "This is gettin' more expensive for me by the minute."

She grinned. "I never said you had to pay for it. I mean, if you paid for everything, then that most definitely would be a date, and we already decided that this _isn't _a date . . ."

John stepped forward, silencing her. "Okay, okay, you can stop." He paused, gauging her expression, before continuing. "So let's say this _is _a date. That's kinda frowned upon at the Bureau, you know."

"Come on, John," Monica said sultrily. "Be a risk-taker. Break the rules. You know you wanna." She gave him a devious smirk, which he soon echoed.

"You are so right, Agent Reyes," he responded, picking up his coat and slinging it over his arm and he directed her to the door. "Tomorrow, then?"

Monica shrugged. "I'm not doing anything tonight. Why wait?"

John smirked and shook his head. "You are unbelievable, Monica."

She gave him a broad grin. "I'll take that as meaning you don't have plans tonight, either."

"I do now."

Monica giggled as he shoved her out the door, pushing her to the elevator.

He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Now, calm down. We don't want some rookie or brownnoser reporting us to Kersh or somethin'."

Monica rolled her eyes. "I thought I was the paranoid one."

He smirked. "Keep that up and I just might hafta spank you."

Monica's eyes grew wide at John's threat. It was very unlike him to be this forward. She turned to face him and saw he was very serious. His eyes reflected something she almost didn't recognize coming from him – lust. She swallowed hard and collected herself; she didn't want to ruin the moment.

"Don't go making empty promises, John," she mumured back to him.

She felt him press gently into her back, proving to her that he was far from joking. "Never, Mon."

His words breezed across her neck, and she couldn't help an involuntary shiver. This was further than they'd ever gone before, and she wasn't sure how to handle it. Before she could think any deeper on the matter, John had directed her inside the elevator.

The metal doors closed, and they were alone in the box. She turned to him to see what he had planned, and caught him glancing up at the security camera.

"John?" she asked, her voice so soft she was afraid he may not have heard her.

"What, Mon?" he asked, his voice just as soft.

"What you thinkin'?"

He turned to look at her. "I'm wonderin' if there's a way to get this camera off."

Her eyes widened and her mouth trembled as she thought of what that could possibly mean. "Are you saying . . ."

He looked her square in the eye. "I want you, Mon, and I don't want some security camera filming what I wanna do to you."

Monica kept her eyes on his as she reached into her purse and withdrew something. "Here, use this." She held out a Swiss Army knife. He raised his eyebrow at her. "Don't ask."

"An' what am I s'pposed to do with this?" he asked, looking from the tool to her.

"I don't know, but you better do it fast before we're not in the mood anymore," Monica responded, getting hotter just thinking about how much trouble they could get in if anyone found out.

He grinned and slid the knife into his pocket. Monica narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you doing?"

"I've got a better idea," he said, and the elevator opened. He stepped out and motioned for her to follow, which she did, still looking confused. He started to walk away, and she jogged to catch up to him.

"John, what are you doing?" she asked again, with more exasperation this time. He opened up a door to a stairwell. "I don't wanna play games . . ."

Before she could finish her statement, the door clicked closed and John had her backed up against the wall in a split second, his mouth covering hers. She reached out to grasp him, to hold her balance, and as the kiss was deepening, and she began to moan into his mouth, he pulled away, leaving Monica dazed.

John waited for her to regain her composure before speaking. "You were saying?"

He broke into a grin as she swatted at him. "You are naughty."

He shrugged. "I just wanted to hurry things up a bit. I mean, you _did _say you wanted me to do it fast."

Monica leaned into him, her lips mere centimeters from John's as she said, "But that didn't mean I wanted it to end so soon." She flicked her tongue out of her mouth for a second, nearly intercepting John's jawline as she did so, and making him shiver slightly from the near encounter.

"Oh, believe me, we ain't done yet," he murmured back, his eyes shifted down and focused entirely on Monica's lips, so very close to his own. "Your place or mine?"

"Why not just do things right here, right now?" she teased, pressing her hands to his chest. "You did say you wanted to do it before we lost the mood."

He groaned as she shifted her thigh against his crotch, and said, "I'm gonna be in the mood for a long time, Mon. I don't know 'bout you."

Monica shifted her eyes upward to meet his and gave him a smirk. "Your house is farther from neighbors."

He grinned. "My place it is, then."

Monica attempted to slide out from under him, but John caught her before she could and smothered her lips with another deep kiss.

When they pulled away, Monica nearly melted into the concrete, but John collected her, righting her, before giving himself a professional distance from her and exiting the stairwell. Monica followed soon after, making sure to keep that slight distance they normally kept, to maintain the appearance of two agents who do nothing more than work together.

They headed for the parking garage, ready to hop into John's truck and speed away to his house. They still needed to be careful, though, because there were cameras, not to mention agents, everywhere they turned. Once they were on the road, then they could relax a bit.

John zoomed out of the garage, not wasting any time in getting the hell away from the FBI Building. As he entered the on ramp for the freeway, he heard Monica let out a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He turned to her and found her leaned back against her seat, eyes closed, her mouth upturned in a satisfied grin.

"Happy?" he asked, a hint of a smile playing upon his face.

"Of course," she purred, cracking her eyes open a bit and tilting her head to face him. "You know, this is not at all how I imagined spending the weekend."

"It's not the weekend yet," John teased, his grin growing wider.

She stuck her tongue out at him, then let her features settle into a happy expression. "We just have to remember we have to work tomorrow. The last thing we need is to have someone come check up on you and find me in bed with you." She started laughing, and John joined her, taking a left turn.

"Oh, Mon," John sighed, after calming from his laughter, "I wish we didn't have to be so damn secretive 'bout all this."

Monica's laughter died down, as well, and she softly said, "Me too. But hey, doesn't the danger of it all get you even more hot and bothered?"

He gave her a sidelong glance, smirking. "I suppose that's what gets you off, huh?"

She shook her head, returning his smirk. "No, John," she leaned closer to him, positioning her mouth near his ears, "_you're_ what gets me off."

John jerked on the wheel, nearly losing control of his truck. Once safely back in his lane, he scowled, shaking a finger at Monica. "You better watch it, Mon. You're gonna end up getting up both killed if you keep doing shit like that."

Monica continued smirking, settling back into her seat. "At least I have an effect on you," she said with a hint of cockiness.

John snorted. "That's for fucking sure, Monica. You don't have any idea."

"Care to show me?"

John signalled and pulled into his driveway, bringing the truck to a halt and turning off the ignition before turning to look at Monica, then opening his door and hopping down, leaving her to sit in the cab. Monica frowned, confused by his behavior.

She need not have been confused for long, though, as just as she was about to open her door, it flung open, and there stood John, a feral look in his eyes. She made as if to step down, but before she could, he was lifting her, and not gently, either.

He threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, then walked to the house in determined stride. As he reached the door, Monica reached down and swatted his rearend, clearly not appreciative of the trip. He ignored her and pushed open the now unlocked door, walking in and slamming it shut before heading upstairs, his grip on her legs tight and unwavering.

He reached his bedroom and kicked open the door, reaching his bed in seconds, and finally loosening his grip on Monica's legs, sliding her down his body slowly, savoring every bit of contact with her supple and willing body.

Monica moaned as her breasts brushed against John's chest – her nipples were so goddamn hard, and the rubbing was just making them even more sensitive.

"Like that?" John murmured, brushing his lips over Monica's neck, while pressing his hips into hers, causing her to moan even louder.

"God . . . fuck, I'm wearing too many clothes," Monica said, her breathing heavy.

"For once, I won't argue with you," John joked, pulling away briefly, just for long enough for Monica to rip off her shirt and hastily pull down her skirt. As soon as the clothes were removed, he fastened his lips to her neck again, prepared to make a hickey the size of Texas. As he did so, Monica reached over and tugged on his belt, signalling to him that he needed to get out of his clothes, too.

Rather than unzipping his jeans himself, he redirected her retreating hands back to his waistband, silently ordering her to do the job. She fumbled with the belt buckle, then found the zipper, yanking down.

John pulled away, worried about the fervent nature of her removal of his pants. "Whoa, Mon, I don't want our party to be cut short by a trip to the hospital," he said, a smirk in his voice.

Monica giggled nervously. "No, I guess you're right. I'll keep in under control."

"How 'bout I just do it?" John suggested, not fully trusting her to reign in those raging hormones.

"That's no fun," Monica pouted, running her hands up his thighs.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Neither is goin' to the emergency room. Just lemme do it, Mon. Then you can have as much fun as you want."

Monica purred. "I do like the sounds of it. Make it fast, big man. I ain't gonna wait all night."

"Oh, is that so?" he murmured against her lips, then sucked her lower lip into his mouth temporarily, releasing another moan from Monica. He quickly reached down and undid the button on his pants, unzipped them, and let them drop to the floor. "And now, for someplace more comfortable."

"Mmm," Monica agreed, but felt the urge to hassle him. "Must be that old age creeping up on ya, John. Can't even have sex standing up anymore."

John reached down and pinched one of Monica's nipples through her bra, causing her to squirm in a combination of pleasure and pain. "You sure you're not the one who can't handle vertical sex?"

"I've done it before, John, and I know for a fact that I can do it again," she responded, breathing heavily as John deftly unhooked her bra and slipped it off her arms, sending it flying across the room.

"Well, this is gonna be a lot longer than you're gonna want to be standing up," he informed her, bringing his head down to one of her plump breasts and taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.

Monica moaned again, closing her eyes in ecstasy. "So you're saying I'm gonna be glad I'm already in bed when you get done with me?" she asked breathlessly.

He nodded, his stubble rubbing her stomach. She sighed, causing him to chuckle. "You like that, huh? Well, you're gonna love what I have in store."

He continued the slow journey down her body, and Monica let out a loud groan in anticipation of what he was about to do. Sure enough, he started to yank on her panties, chuckling. "Nice granny panties, Mon."

She whacked him upside the head. "Comfort comes first at work."

John raised his head for long enough to nuzzle her neck, saying, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Mmm," Monica murmured, getting distracted by his ministrations, "if you had your way, I wouldn't be wearing anything to work."

"No, no, that's not true," John argued, sprinkling kisses across her breastbone. "I wouldn't want all the other guys ogling you. You're all mine."

Monica giggled. "You sure are full of yourself."

He halted his kisses and looked at her. "Yeah, and now all I want to do is make _you _full of me."

Monica groaned, both at the suggestion and the horrible pun. "Well, then, are you just gonna sit there and inflate your ego some more?"

He grinned at her. "I suppose I could give you a little lip service."

She groaned again. "Stop with the awful puns, John."

"Aw, come on, Mon, you know you love 'em," John responded. "I could do this all night."

"Let me guess," Monica interrupted him. "Or you could do me all night."

"Well, there's an idea," he said, shifting himself farther down on the bed. "And I think I'll start right down here."

He trailed his hands, rough from years of police work, down the sensitive skin of her stomach and thighs, moving them in toward her hot center. Monica almost whimpered in anticipation, as his fingers gradually slipped one at a time inside her, until three digits filled her dripping hole.

John had a determined look upon his face as he started finger fucking Monica – if she hadn't been so in the moment, Monica probably would have laughed at it. Instead, she panted and moaned, her eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure, as John continued to thrust his fingers inside her.

"Oh, so good," she moaned, and the timbre of her voice only hardened John's already stiff erection to an almost unbearable degree.

He groaned under the pressure and shifted again, bringing himself to a kneeling position between her legs and extracting his fingers. Monica whimpered at the loss, but it needn't be for long, for the very next thing John did was grab his cock in one hand and drive it toward the space his fingers had just vacated.

Just as he was reaching her opening, Monica's voice halted him.

"Stop!"

He quickly drew back, worried he had done something wrong. "What, Mon?" he whispered. "What'd I do?"

She looked at him dreamily, still in sex mode, then replied, "Protection, John."

He narrowed his eyes at her in confusion, then as it dawned on him, opened them wide. "Ahh."

Monica smirked. "Don't wanna show up for work pregnant. I think Kersh would _really _have some questions then."

John shook his head and slid off the bed, going to the nightstand and finding a condom, ripping open the package and extracting it. "I'd 'a thought you'd be on the pill."

"Why?" Monica asked, pushing herself into a sitting position. She took the condom from his hands and proceeded to unroll it over his stiff member, looking in his eyes the entire time. "Think I'm that much of a slut?"

John's face grew shocked at her words. "'Course not, Monica. I just thought most women used it." The moment had grown considerably more serious, and he cupped her face in his hands. "You know I could never think such a thing about you, Mon. I . . . I . . ."

"You what, John?" Monica whispered, wanting him to just say it, what she hoped he was about to admit, that he loved her.

He smiled down at her and spoke softly. "I love you too much for that."

Monica almost melted right on the bed at his words, but kept herself together long enough to respond, "And you know I love you, have loved you for a long time."

"Yeah, I do," he said, still smiling. "And how about we prove our love for each other right now, let me make you a woman."

Monica giggled. "Really, John, I'm not a slut, but I'm not a snow white virgin, either."

He shrugged. "I know. But you're a John Doggett virgin." He grinned and leaned in to suck on her neck, as she groaned.

"You're awful," she muttered into his hair, and he pulled back slightly to look her in the face.

"Yeah, but you love it," he responded, and she shook her head, grinning.

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get it on already."

"Ooh, feisty," John said, waggling his eyebrows, and Monica giggled again. It was good to see him being so lighthearted for once.

This time when he drove into her, she didn't stop him, and they were soon entangled in each other, John thrusting into her with fervent strokes. They moaned and groaned and panted, simply enjoying the feeling of their bodies being melded with each other for the first time, but what would surely be far from their last.

As the night wore on, they continued to take opportunities to explore each others' bodies, and each others' minds, as they talked as much as they fucked.

John rolled over after another romp, exhausted. "So, Mon, you still up for vertical sex?"

She yawned next to him. "Hell no. What do you think I am, the Energizer Bunny?"

He smirked. "Just checking." She swatted at him, and he leaned over, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I love you, Monica. Don't forget that."

She smiled leisurely, rolling over so she was holding his body against hers. "Never, John."


End file.
